


Pariah and The Bull

by The_Caffeinated_Hamster



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arachnids of Unusual Size, BDSM, Blood, Breaking and Entering, Gore, Long Haired Dorian, M/M, Movie and Book References, Piercings, alcohol consumption, slow start
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:11:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Caffeinated_Hamster/pseuds/The_Caffeinated_Hamster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Iron Bull and his Chargers are on a mission, away from their run-down stronghold, when someone lets themselves in for the night and never leaves. For a time no one notices--that is until the booze goes missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bull and His Chargers

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Disclaimers: First time making a multi-chapter fic- trying to get my hand back in writing. What better way than to exploit my current Dragon Age Obsession? Not beta'd but I've picked over this chapter with a fine tooth comb before hand.

Krem wasn’t one for keeping still. He always had to be moving, doing something. Bull didn’t mind, so long as his lieutenant didn’t drop dead in front of the boys from exhaustion, then, he might have to find a way to re-kill him. He had asked multiple times if he was giving the Krem too much work, the answer was always the same: “Its fine Chief; Anything else that needs tending to?”

Usually it was “How’s the food and booze supply?” Ever since Skinner and Dalish found this derelict shit-hole of a castle Bull could hoard supplies like he couldn’t out in camps. He knew the boys would love staying here and start poking about. As it stood The Iron Bull and Bull’s Chargers were in high demand as of late. He blamed taking that Grand Duke with the loose tongue for that. But Money meant firstly- booze for the boys, secondly- food for the boys, and thirdly- payment for the boys.

Curiosity was eating at the Iron Bull; He just wanted to know things about this place. How sound was the foundation? Would one hearty storm going to send the stone and timber ceilings and walls tumbling on them as they slept? Where there any secret passage ways in and out for those: “Just-in-case” scenarios? Demons! What if there were demons? Then again, Dalish would have sniffed them out ages ago being a Mage-not-mage and all. Then the all-important question: how many people would he have to hire and pay to restore this place? Did he WANT it restored? Personally, The Iron Bull had dealt with worse living arrangements. This was paradise compared to previous locations.

Thus far, they had managed to cobble together the kitchen (or what they presumed was a kitchen) and enough rooms for the Chargers to either bunk or sleep on their own. Bull took claim of one of the larger rooms, double doors and absolutely no risk of his horns catching on the frame (Even if it was endlessly hilarious to the resident ‘Vint if that were the case).  
He eyed his personal room once more; there were no holes in the ceiling, a few cracked panes of glass, and a fire place large enough to stuff an ox into. Shelves lined the walls for who-knows-what. One shelf had his axe braced against it. A few more had knick-knacks, and another had more supplies for jobs.

Currently, the Fire place was unused, the air just wasn’t damp enough to bother his old wounds, and he could ignore the ache easily enough. Plus, he needed someone to what was it: sweep the chimney? Mop the Chimney? Rocky had given him all sorts of fine horror stories of chimney’s exploding grinning broadly the whole damn time. Asshole. The more he thought on it the less he felt this place was a good idea. But the boys were happy, he’d adapt- he always did.

He slumped in his seat bracing his bad leg over his not so bad one. There was a stack of letters upon his desk: opened, read, and reviewed as usual. Krem looked at the requests set the ones that were Charger worthy in one pile and set the others more fit for starting cooking flames in a basket. Bull scratched the stubble with his amputated fingers, weeding them down into stacks: A Team (including himself) and B Team. It was a mindless task that would be better done with ale. It was also something to do when sleep just wasn’t a good option. Bull inhaled sharply and made to re-read the letter he currently held, when, Krem came bursting into his chambers. “Chief, some Lord to see you. He’s insistent.” The man jolted when he saw the Lord walk straight past him.  
“I’d say let him in but he’s already in.” Bull said evenly setting the letter down.

“I told you he was insistent.” Krem huffed.

Bull sat up from his lounging position waiting to hear the latest tale of… let’s see, let’s see… It’s not a personal vendetta that much is sure. Provincial Lord, desperate, sweating, eyeing side pouch- Not the dagger. “I need your help.”

Bull nodded slowly as if he was entertaining a hyperactive child. He set his elbows onto his desk and laced his fingers together the skin scrapping along like sandpaper, “Have a seat, perhaps a drink?”  
“What? No… No I’d prefer to stand.”

“Sit.” Bull ordered and smiled behind his folded hands when the man obeyed sitting on the wooden chair with a hard sound. The man was staring at his horns then the eyepatch then the missing fingers and repeated his staring pattern. Bull cleared his throat urging the man to speak.

“I… I have a bit of a problem. There are giants that have come down from the mountains… I think… they came from somewhere. They’ve already eaten a number of cattle… Maker knows how many farmers have been stomped or ripped in half trying to get rid of them with pitchforks.” To that Krem made a sound of disgust, the man looked to Krem briefly before returning his attention to Bull, “Houses have been torn apart I… I can pay you in some coin… The rest… Maker Please we’ll figure out something.”

“The Chargers do not come cheap.” Bull warned. Krem opened his mouth then shut it slowly when Bull glanced his way. “We can accept some other forms of payment. Not rice.”

“Flour?” the Lord jumped, “Barley?” Bull’s face remained carefully blank and the man began sweating more; “Whiskey?” the man’s voice went high enough to squeak.

“Whiskey we can take, Flour as well.” Bull gave his neck a small jerk trying to get the vertebrae to pop back into place, “Two sacks of flour, whatever you can spare in coin to cover initial commissioning costs, meat, and two or three casks of whiskey-” Bull’s head rose off of his fingers as the Lord’s coin purse was pushed his way. It was heavy by the sounds it made and there were outlines of rings.

“I will have to see to our supplies your prices are…. Not unreasonable. We will send them here as soon as we have it ready. But given time we can scrape more money together.”

“My boys need to eat.” He shrugged, “That and it’s been awhile since we’ve brought down a few giants, it’ll be good for them. Krem, get the boys ready we’re moving out tonight. Be sure to get terrain and directions from the Boss.”

“Aye Chief.” Krem seemed to enjoy playing the role of guard dog, as if the Bull needed it. Bull listened to the sounds of Krem’s boots pattering around for the travel map on the far shelf.

The Lord sagged in the chair and murmured prayers of thanks. If this was some Orlesian Official wanting to off one of their rivals, Bull would have quadrupled his prices for having to deal with Orlais alone. But a small Farming village beset by Giants? Nah, he knew he could get away with food payments without too much belly aching. They needed supplies here, and, there was more than enough money from the last job to go around still. He knew Stitches sent the majority of his money back home. Bull would make sure to get his pay out first. Everyone else could just take their pay in hard liquor and after that food; if he could sweet talk Grim into making those steak and what-ever-else pies they’d purr like kittens.

Bull stood resisting the urge to stretch and let his spine crack and his muscles creak. The Lord followed suit standing shakily, partially out of relief, the later was pure intimidation- not very many had seen a Qunari up close (that they knew of).

“A drink for you?” Bull offered again pulling out a flask out of his desk; he shouldn’t be bending like this- he was going to feel that in his hip for an age. No matter he’d walk it off as always.

“What?”

“Liquor, do you need liquor?”

Their employer thought on it as Krem laid out a battered map onto the desk, setting a bottle of green ink and a quill down for him to use. “I would be a fool to turn it down now. My nerves are completely gone.” Ever since he was put into this position of power no doubt, this was a type of leader Bull called the ‘Cracked Bell’- serviceable and got the job done but wasn’t as loud or as sharp as you needed it to be.

He kept that remark to himself as he poured the smooth amber liquid into a glass tumbler and eased it over to the man as he shakily wrote on the map provided. Bull peered down at the penmanship- he’d be giving the map to Rocky- he could read chicken scratch.

The more the Lord drank the more his penmanship seemed to improve; by the time he had finished his writing had transformed into something legible. “I will see you gents….” The man belched into his fist, “At the village…. Fun for all- let’s get stomped on by giants…” the man staggered off and out of the chamber, leaving Krem and Bull to study each other.

“So… Krem-De- La-Krem ready to go Giant hunting?” he barked out a laugh as Krem groaned walking away.

“I’m up for it but the Boys need some provoking.”

There was a system Krem had down- wake up Grim, have Grim wake up Skinner with the broomstick. That would wake Rocky from the sounds of snarling and various creative curses coming out of Skinner’s mouth. Have Skinner drag Dalish out of her bed by her big toe. Krem would be free to just knock on Stitches’ door, the man would grunt and appear moments later; slurring his words one moment and being fully awake once he heard the Chargers were moving out.

Bull would just watch his crew tumble about like newborn pups when they were woken for missions. He always tried and always failed to hide a lopsided smile, the precious little jerk offs that they were. Bull wouldn’t trade them for the world.

“This better be good chief!” Rocky snarled before breaking out into a yawn.

“We’re going to have some fun with this one boys! We’re running off giants in a small village.”

“Not more bags of rice! Ser, I thought you learned that lesson!” Dalish chided.

“We’re getting supplies for this shit hole of a castle- we got some money up front. Quit your sniveling. The rest is booze and food. The sooner we head out and bring these over grown bastards down the more pay we can get.”

“It’s not more of that Ferelden Ale shite is it?”

“We’re getting whiskey this time, Skinner.” Krem rounded, “So long as there is enough of it to go around.

The Chargers looked more alive then, despite the late hour, Bull turned waving his hand for them to follow, “Chargers horns up!”


	2. There Might Be Giants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and his merry band of misfits arrive to kick some ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about how long this took. I’ve been busy and when I got to writing this chapter it just exploded with no real good way to break it up. ~~Once again no beta.~~ My friend is beta-ing this chapter expect sudden changes.
> 
> Warnings for this Chapter: Blood, violence, vomit, finger puppets 
> 
> Aside note: I will add these warnings to the tags ASAP.

One would think that finding massive bipedal creatures would be easy, just spot them a mile away send some of the boys to flank while the rest charged in swords, hammers and “Arrows” gleaming and have done with it. Oh no, why the fuck should anything be simple? 

When they first arrived at the coastal village it was obvious that something happened. Blood stains still lingered on fences and houses stomped flat. There was no real sign of life, the most exciting thing any of the Chargers had seen was an escaped goat and its shepherd zig-zagging through flattened barley fields. They had appeared and disappeared like phantoms. Outside of that- no Giants, it was two days of this mess now and boredom was seeping into cloud minds. Skinner had gone out into the fields, trying her best to make sense of the tracks in the area; she must have stood in the same spot for an hour before Grim went out to hand her a water skin. Bull watched as the two had a conversation, which was mainly Skinner prattling on at Grim, who in turn would offer head shakes, and occasionally an ‘Mm’. 

Krem had gone into the village to see how the citizens were doing, since that was just his way. Giving the souls inside the long house a bit of hope. If The Iron Bull tried that whole comfort thing he’d have to get past the screams of terrified children first- you know- big grey muscular body with horns and one eye. Bull turned his head watching Rocky and Stitches playing a card game. Bull settled his weight and sighed. Dalish was out in the woods finding shiny stones again, no doubt, if the giants were in there their little not-mage would send up a signal. 

Bull shifted opening his leather belt pouches, fetching out pieces of scrap paper and a small amount of ink. He used to do this for troops in Seharon; it took their minds off of things and staved off wandering thoughts, for a while at least. Bull didn’t dare read into it outside of himself being /that/ bored. He kept track, as best he could of the comings and goings of his Chargers. 

“I’m going to go grab dinner.” Rocky hopped up at one point.

“Don’t blow up any goats.” Bull said twisting paper around his thumb. 

“I blow up one goat in my sleep and you never let me live it down.”

“I’m still wondering how you pulled it off.” Bull shrugged, “Pity I wasn’t on watch- Grim won’t tell me shit.”

“Mm.” Grim said sitting on his haunches by a stump.

“See?” Bull pouted. 

“Alright, Ser Alright.” Rocky wove his hand trudging his way into the forest. 

“I doubt he will find anything.” Skinner scoffed, “All of the Game has been either eaten or has run off.”

“If we’re lucky Krem might sweet talk one of the villagers in giving up some of their rations.” Stitches said hopefully. 

Bull had let the remaining boys devolve into a conversation, with only a little bit of yelling, while he began putting tiny little dots of ink on the paper that was wrapped around his fingers. He didn’t even notice when Krem returned squatting next to him. 

“Give me good news.” Bull said not looking up.

“From what I’ve gathered chief, they like luring the villagers into a false sense of security or some such; they leave and come back.” 

Bull hummed, “They’ll show they’re not _that_ smart.”

“Try telling them that Chief.” 

“Nah.”

Krem finally looked down at what Bull was doing with his hands, “Chief… Are you- Making finger puppets?” 

“Yes.”

Krem’s face was priceless from what Bull could see out of the corner of his eye, abject horror didn’t quiet cover the emotion on his lieutenant’s face. “No.” 

“You’re no fun anymore Krem, I even have a playlet ready!”

“I was looking forward to it.” Dalish pouted, she was perched on a tree branch that was just low enough to the ground to comfortably sit on, her knees drawn up to her chest. She looked more like a child than a mercenary. If Bull tried to pat her head she’d probably coo. 

Krem stood up and walked off in a vague direction. Bull pinched his lips together as his chest and belly shook, he was glad he could still shock the shit out of Krem, as long as it kept him on his toes. Bull smiled at his fingertips once the final touches were put on. He crooked and wiggled his fingers making small noises with his puckered lips. This pleased him more than he’d like to admit, they’d have to be put on a shelf somewhere back at the base. He was particularly proud of puppet Krem’s angry face. 

“Chief…. Chief! We’ve got company!” 

Damn it he worked hard on that playlet, Bull shoved the puppets into his leather side pouch, hoisting up his broad axe in one smooth motion. There were three giants stomping up from somewhere down the coast line, all of them were peppered with arrows and there were even some broken pieces of metal sticking out of some of the giant’s legs. Three… bloody _three_. Luckily the giants seemed more interested in milling around in their own separate sections, it was easier to bait and lure one and pick them off, if the other two caught on. They’d be in for a blood bath. 

“Dalish get Rocky we’ll need some fire power. Drag him in by his mustache if you have to.” 

“Aye Ser.” 

The one that had him the most concerned was the tallest one milling around pawing at the Long House. Those kids must be terrified, and he didn’t mean the goats.

“Krem how fast do you think we can get these guys down?” 

“If we were dealing with just two not long at all, we’d just split up trip the bastards and swarm. If we do the exact same thing we’d be overstretching ourselves no matter how fast we work.” 

Skinner was antsy, she was ready for a fight, but she held her position. Dalish and Rocky appeared moments later trying not to disturb the branches too much. 

“I’d hate to say it, but we’ll have to lure them away and back towards the coast, too risky to fight it out here.” Bull said, “Last thing we need is to do more damage. Skinner, Dalish, you two are our fastest runners; see if you can’t get them to follow you two. Piss ‘em off you’re good at that. Rocky, ready a flair." 

“Very well Ser.” 

“The rest of you follow me we’ll set up a trap.” 

“I hope this works boss.”

“I haven’t gotten you all killed yet. Stitches grab that rope we’ll need it.” 

“Honestly we’re tripping them?”

“If it didn’t work so damn well I’d be thinking of something more interesting. Stay safe you two give us a few minutes before you start luring.”

Skinner and Dalish both bowed their heads and saluted. The rest of the chargers went down towards the beach wrangling ropes as they went. 

\--

Ropes, for Bull’s purposes, were meant for fun kinky shit, and- innuendo not withstanding- helping drag and tie other shit down. Rope wasn’t meant for being Giant’s trip wire, if it wasn’t so damn practical in situations like these he’d do away with the tactic entirely. 

Bull eyed how the rope was sitting on his arm, if he wasn’t careful, if the bastards hit the rope right he could be missing a forearm within seconds and bleeding out before he could have the pleasure of hitting anything. He had learned that lesson the hard way on a few dreadnought runs as a trainee. Wrangling rain slicked ropes during a squall. He was the dip-shit greenhorn unlucky enough to have to make sure the holdings for the Gatlock were secure. Fun lesson for him: the tension was too high on the one rope and it snapped; good bye fingers. He did that shit once never again. He shook his head and checked the boys that were behind him making ready for- in an ideal world- one giant to take down, a good warm up get the blood pumping and the boys eager for more.

Rocky sent up a flare for the girls while Grim checked the knots and how well they held onto the jagged rocks on the far end.

Then they waited for a change of pace, as if they didn’t have enough of that from the first part of this mission. The only reassurance Bull had, was the occasional fire spell and giant’s shriek. Then there was silence. 

Do not worry, do not panic never let the emotions hit your face. Wait. It. Out. Dalish and Skinner should be here, where were they? They better not be dead. 

Not his hellions…

Skinner and Dalish came barreling down the hill; the two running like fennecs fleeing dragon territory. Dalish would turn back and fire a few ‘arrows’ and take off at a run again matching or passing Skinner, their feet kicked up sand as they went farther down the beach. 

Bull began counting his heart beats, and then once the sound was drowned out by the earth shaking under massive feet. It was unpleasant and painful to the Bull as his bones shook and his vision went blurry from the vibrations. The first giant drew near; Bull began running back with the rope holding it taught with the rest of the boys on rope duty. That’s when he realized while one Giant was falling a second one had followed the smaller giant. Confused it kept walking, the stupid beast tripped over the smaller and fell on top of it. The sound of a giant falling on another giant was actually pretty funny. There wasn't anything impressive save for the world shaking a little harder and sand erupting skyward and a sort of “Wumpf” sound. Bull abandoned the rope when the third began lumbering towards its fellows, drawn down from the moans of the other two. 

The giant left standing trudged past the other two. Some of the boys firing bolts into thick ankle bones. The creature wailed, swatting and trying to stomp on the Chargers.

Bull ran in from the other side swinging his axe, the cut was enough to slice though tendons and expose glistening white bone- the price was Bull getting drenched in broiling hot blood. He wiped his face as he ran to dodge a massive hand sweeping towards him. Looping back, Bull began hacking away, it was best to take out the joints, disables and usually adds to the bleeding, get to the vein and sever it dodging the result of his efforts was another matter. It helped when thinner ropes began looping around flailing wrists and a thrashing head. Bull kept hacking, blood began seeping into the sand making it hard to move with out sliding or sinking. 

Arrows and fire flew and life was good. Nothing hurt when Bull was fighting. He turned just long enough to watch Krem, Grim and Skinner sinking daggers and hooks into the other Giant's back as it stood up and began thrashing trying to send the three of them flying. Why did they get to have all the fun? It was a quick glance, little more.

Krem's main weapon had dropped to the beach, he had time and sense enough to unsheathe his sword sinking it into the base of the Giant's neck. He was almost thrown clean off from the frantic thrashings. Krem was hanging on with one hand. Skinner and Grim has dropped down in a brief respite. Krem couldn't tell if he was in this alone or if there was ground support. Krem could feel his stomach twist into a knot as he finally regained his grip. The soldier twisting himself this way and that as hands grabbed at him. On occasion he threw himself forward plunging his sword deeper. He began cursing up a storm as his sword began to splinter. He cursed Chief, he cursed the giant, he cursed this job. He liked this sword Damn it! He hadn't heard the sounds of explosions over the shrieks of the creature and his own cursing.

Bull had taken a step back when Rocky appeared with a crude wooden shoulder cannon, the giant was weakened but not out. The Qunari watched as the dwarf held his ground as the giant roared. A rocket flew into it's mouth, detonation made the worst sound, sharp and slick. Seabirds flew up into the air in surprise that were farther down the beach. Rocky ran back from the falling body, as gouts of blood pumped rhythmically out of the neck. Shards of skull, bits of brain and eye ball rained down on the lot of them. Bull laughed getting a chunk of optic nerve off of his horns. They'd have to remember that! Messy! But fun to watch! 

A close second was watching Krem riding on a giant’s back. He was swearing so that meant he was more or less alright. Bull made a beeline for the back of the giant's leg. Just in time for Krem's sword to snap and the Vint to go flying he landed on Stitches and Dalish. Krem rolled off of his companions and threw up, his stomach could take no more. He spat the tasting bile. Shakily, he looked up to Stitches who nodded at him, "Come on give me your arms." he said staggering onto his feet. Krem stared at him, really? His arms felt like overcooked noodles. Stitches clicked his tongue as he hauled Krem's exhausted body off to the side away from the action by a section of armour.

Krem watched as the giant crashed to its knees, arrows and fire and Grim's with a war hammer climbing up on to the giant's back and driving the remaining exposed portion of sword in between the vertebra.

Maker's balls... good.

"How's the dumb ass Vint?" Bull called after the noise had died down.

"This Vint wants a new sword and a Damn beer!" Krem shouted back, his voice hoarse from bile tearing at his esophagus. 

"And you'll get it!" Bull bellowed cheerfully. That bastard always swore up and down Qunari didn’t have that whole 'family thing’ but here the oaf was preening like a proud father. 

“Ser should we check for a pulse?” Dalish offered pointing her “bow” at the smaller giant. 

“Wouldn’t hurt to check now will it?” Bull smirked, easing his way over towards the giant. It hadn’t moved but creatures of this size usually didn’t go that easily. All he had to do was make sure he put enough force into his swing and he’d probably crack the skull in two or three hits. Bull began to step more gingerly the closer he got, his axe positioned low. He could see this going wrong in so many different ways. One large hand grabbing him about his waist and crushing him like a wad of paper, or, even hoisting him up and towards gnarled teeth before Bull could get a good swing in. 

He could see gnarled fingers start to tense and relax, it was coming too. Grim was coming up slowly on his good side, his fingers flexing against the braided leather of a sledge hammer, to expedite the process and make sure this monster didn’t have a chance to get back up. The sooner this was done the sooner they could shack up with some lovely bar maids, and drink, and sing bawdy tunes. He nodded to the human who nodded his understanding. Bull drew a deep breath filling his lungs with air as he brought the axe up, he gauged himself for a moment, holding his breath. On the exhale he threw his weight into the blow, his feet lifting off of the ground. The roar deafened The Iron Bull, his eye closing at the assault on his ear drums. Then it stopped. Bull had missed the sound of the sledge hammer hitting the back of his weapon. But he didn't miss the second one. Grim reared back for a third time, "I think we're good."

"Ah." 

The Iron Bull studied the axe for a time and went to retrieve it. No sense in letting a good axe sit in a giant’s skull, that meant extra expenses for a new one that fit his proportions. One wrecked weapon per mission… Krem had that dubious honour. Bull put his foot against the giant’s eye and pulled, and slowly it worked its way free scraping along bone and whatever else might be in a Giant's brain cavity. 

Bull smiled up at his viscera covered axe as he held it up toward the darkened clouds. He smiled toothily, balancing it on his shoulder. Good fight, very good fight, he stomped up the hill his boys and hellions flanking him. There was some payments to collect and some villagers to get drunk. Krem was up and walking beside him. "How'd we do?"

"Bruised egos and some damaged or destroyed weapons chief."

"You'll live."


	3. The Storm that Connects Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Bull and The Chargers play....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, I'd also like to apologize for how long this chapter took. I have just been... not all here so to speak. I'm better now and let the good times roll.
> 
> I've made you wait long enough- there may be sudden changes to this chapter if I spot something that I feel needs to change. 
> 
> Chapter warnings- I spend way to much time on Dorian's preening habits.

Bull had to admit, the Lord of this village could hold his own in a drinking contest. The whole village had insisted they stay a while to enjoy the peace in the town. What did Bull and the boys care? They were paid, rather handsomely in money and supplies. The Lord was laughing and raising his tankard high before he dropped to the floor when he tipped his head to far back. Bull laughed raising his tankard, “Good man!”

Bull looked around, watching Rocky and Stitches nod at each other with stupid drunken smiles on their faces while making eyes with some of the unattached women. Well, presumed unattached, it was hard to tell with humans, looking for a decorative ring on a specific finger? What shit! Bull took a long drink from his tankard, slamming it down with a hard sigh. 

Dalish was dancing with a group of women by the bar, their movements getting fluid and sloppy with each passing round of drinks. 

Skinner and Grim were off in a ‘quiet’ corner seemingly at peace with just sitting next to each other, shoulders down and in but both were looking anywhere but at each other. That was a new development. Skinner disliked being touched, by anyone; Stitches could get away with it until she was patched up. She would growl her way through a quick head pat from the Bull, but prolonged touches? Bull took a drink, storing the nugget of information away for another night of more sober ponderings. 

There were high pitched squeals of delight as children tore through the tavern. Bull smirked at them setting his mug down more gently. He watched one of them trip, fall, brush off the dust and join back in the fun again. Tough little shits. 

“Hey mista!” a girl with sloppy and frayed pigtails called to him. He looked to her with a blink. She began flexing her thin arms, sporting a gap toothed grin.

Bull smirked, “Oh alright.” He curled his arms and jutted his muscles making his veins bulge and tendons creak. Two kids latched on each side and began giggling swinging themselves on his biceps. Bull cackled; times like these he could pretend. He stood up earning delighted screams and cheers. He always enjoyed playing with kids; he could finally act his age. 

There was a redheaded serving girl off in the corner, watching him with keen interest. Killing a bunch of ass hole giants, drinking good booze; and playing living tree for a bunch of squirming humans AND if there was sex on the table later it would be an all-around excellent mission.  
If there was one thing humans got right it was red heads. Damn all fire and sun and _freckles_. FRECKLES. He smirked to the woman who went a shade similar to her hair. She was a lovely thing, pale and with loose ringlets spilling over her breasts; good shit- very good shit… hiding the curves behind layers of thick hemp cloth and a mane of fire. He set the kids down watching them stagger and drop to the floor eyes wide in awe before running off to the main pack mouths moving a mile a minute. Bull made sure he wasn’t being followed for another ‘assault’, going to the red head, gathering snickers from her fellows. “Care for a ride?”

She blushed and smiled, “Oh are you going to let me sit on your arm?” 

“Among other things if you wish.” Bull offered watching bright green eyes trail along his body line settling at his crotch. 

She bit her lower lip, “I do like the sound of the implications.” 

“Know a quiet spot?” Bull asked lowering his head hovering close enough to feel the heat rise off of her face. 

“I shouldn’t leave my post.”

“You’re allowed to celebrate you know. Bend the rules a little bit have some fun.” 

She smirked to him, “I know just the spot.” Her eyelids falling in a come-hither manner, Bull smirked in turn.

Good girl. Let’s see how far those freckles went.

Krem was enjoying the peace outside, he had his ale and was smiling up at the grey sky twisting and churning into a steely navy and black colour. Storms were a favorite of his. It was storming when Bull finally got him out of Tevinter, and it was raining so hard it soaked him and the chief clean down to their smalls. But he felt clean, he felt alive. The chief had just let him stand in the rain staring up at the clouds until he started to look like a “drowned rat”. The man had noticed the humidity kicking up and the smile grew on his face, he had stripped out of his armour and was in a simple cotton shirt and leather pants. The clouds were fast moving and steadily moving South East from their current location back towards home. A smile pulled on the Tevinter’s face as the first drops began to fall fat and cold on his face, he laid back folding his hands behind his head letting the roar of thunder drown out the drunken singing. 

 

\----

Why was ‘outside’ legal? Why was it allowed to exist? Why couldn’t ‘outside’ have bookshelves and wine bottles lingering around all over the place? Get some civility into this horrid place. The mage kicked his foot free after he had stepped into a patch of wild twisting vines. “Kaffas.” First his horse gets slaughtered by a bear, now this forsaken place wanted to deprive him of proper footwear- the nerve.

Dorian used his staff as a walking stick. Bears were in these woods, and dogs, those damn hounds hadn’t given him a lick of calm since he was alone and apparently an “easy target to nibble on”. Damn nature, there had to be a town around here somewhere. Someplace that could potentially have a tub and a mirror, food and booze in exactly that order; he needed to do something with this beard and rats nest of curls that was falling onto his neck. A few quick dunks into freezing water had done little more than raise his ire more. His travel mirror had been sacrificed in a bought with a bear: He had stopped to rest, had built a small fire, and was about to shave when the beast appeared. No doubt the blasted thing was still getting bits of glass out of its eyes.

The mage growled working up a flurry of frustrated cursing. His head fell to his chest and he inhaled, opened his eyes to stare down at his feet, the licks of silvery mist curled around his ankles. ‘That wasn’t there before.’ His mind concluded. 

For now he put it out of his mind, but his pace was much brisker than before. He knew of the Fog Warriors in Seheron, how quickly they moved, struck and left. Maker save him- were there Fog Warriors this far south? Or were there another version here? For his sake there better not be. What all did those books say again? He brought up a fire spell, just in case. The magic flowed form his shoulders, to his elbows and gathered around his wrist and palms wisps of yellow and orange flame caught the air rushing past him and sparked. 

Surely there would be something about the Fog Warriors- no accounts on how hard it was to breathe? How it made the sky darken and…. Wait. The gathered spell fizzled away being carried off into nothingness- some seeping back into Dorian’s veins the rest fluttering off into the dense air. Dorian craned his neck back staring up at the darkened sky. Had he honestly worked himself up over a storm? A fat glob of rain stung his cheek. His head snapped back and shook sending unmanaged curls flying. 

Not a storm. Not a storm. He hadn’t shelter! There wasn’t even good cover--- the first rumble of thunder sounded more like a war drum that had been thrown to a stone floor, the ground shook and Dorian’s vision blurred. “Fasta Vass.” Dorian began running, his sore legs and feet sending spikes up to his hip bones. 

Dorian hadn’t meant to close his eyes as lightening ripped through the clouds, the only thing pleasant about it was the smell. Usually, Dorian wouldn’t have minded a storm. Back home he’d open a window and breathe deep while sipping fine wine in a plush study, book in hand.

To hell with Nature… and outside and it’s lack of proper roofing. 

Rain came unbidden now, cold and slashing clean through his robes. With a flick of his wrist and arm there was a barrier for a small time. His magic was dangerously low as of the past few days- a proper meal; and rest would set him right as rain. HA. Right as rain. HA. 

Dorian kept running he spotted even ground- a worn dirt pathway. There was shelter close by. He launched himself from his spot on the hill on to the path; stopping long enough to set his staff onto his back. It was much harder to keep up a good running pace while making sure his staff didn’t strike the ground. Frantically, he began looking around, finding a brick, then another, he laughed breathlessly. There was civilization! At last! At long fucking last!

So long as the owner didn’t mind a manic Tevinter Mage barging in. He was sure he could sweet talk his way out of most of the sword pointing. Usually Dorian would actually take his time to look for a door, knock and wait for an answer. But his spell had fizzled out some time ago; polite airs were for people not freezing their balls off. 

There was a low window just above the foundation; Dorian hoisted himself up shoving the window open. He planted his fingers on the head jamb as he folded his knees up and in-swinging himself inside. His fingers attempting to keep hold of slick stone before he dropped onto empty burlap sacks with a grunt. Dorian groaned easing himself to his feet drawing his staff to act as support until he could get his legs to stop shaking. He rubbed the small of his back.

The smell of food prompted him to open his eyes, “Well Dorian seems as if you picked the right window to slip into.” He gloated to himself grabbing ripping a hunk of dried meat hanging from a hook. There was plenty of food here. Though no servants came rushing in to see what the commotion was. Shrugging Dorian grabbed apples out of a barrel: tart green ones and there were a few pinkish red ones. He shoved the last bit of spiced meat into his mouth before going back for more. 

Bit by bit Dorian made his way through the castle’s store rooms. He shoved food into side pockets, setting the rest into his arms as he peeped into each room, waiting for signs of life. But the castle was quiet, and still. Dorian scanned the next room, eyeing the casks, if this place truly was abandoned there would be a layer of dust on those casks and the food would have been rotted or eaten away by vermin. Though there were scholars that had found places undisturbed for millennia with torches still lit and perfectly good wheels of cheese sitting in off and out of the way tables. Dorian took a bite of apple, not sure what to make of this place yet. No one told him he couldn’t and he hadn’t keeled over dead yet from secretly poisoned food, so what was the harm?

He should be long gone before the owner came back from their wanderings, if there was one. His ringed hand smoothed over a cask that had been opened he gave it a few knocks- from the sounds of it- still half full perhaps? Fetching up a mug he poured himself some, noting the odd not so appetizing smell. Beggars couldn’t be choosers and he had smelled worse back in the slums of Qarinus. He brought the tankard to his lips taking a mouthful. Dorian spat the liquid out and began gagging, cursing when he could. 

“Kaffas what _is this_?” he spat on the floor squinting at the faded text burned on the lid “Ferelden Beer.” He mouthed, smacking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He paused tilting his head to the side and took another drink, this time he managed to swallow before he cursed. It was the worst thing he’d ever tasted but he kept drinking it. Only the Maker knew why, and neglected to share the information with Dorian.

It didn’t take much perhaps two mugs worth and Dorian’s head swam in a pleasant manner. His belly full and his body finally comfortable and warm, the mage staggered off cheerily calling out greetings down empty halls. He began insulting the owner’s taste in beer at one point, “If you distilled horse piss you might have something a bit more appetizing!” He stopped swaying in an empty hall. 

“Me thinks I’m alone.” He giggled, “No matter I will be long gone before someone should return.” He said to himself. 

\----

Thus far he had found a few more inhabited rooms- one room held medical supplies, potions, poultices, dried herbs. Another had a plethora of glittering magic touched stones and crystals the whole room whispered of the Fade. He left that one be. Those two rooms stood out the most- the rest held weapons or armour in various states of disrepair. It would be easier to have a map of this forsaken castle… Finding a bathing room shouldn’t be this damn hard. Dorian began to open and close every door he found, if there was severe damage to the room he would just admit defeat. 

The travel worn mage threw open a set of double doors, after another hour of hunting and huffed, “Oh blessed be…” The room looked more like a public bath, the floors walls and ceiling covered in stone work or marble and a great pit of a pool like tub complete with steps was there. Dorian eagerly set his belongings aside fetching out soaps, oils and his scissors and razor upon seeing a large mirror at the far wall. “Well I certainly blend in well enough.” Dorian snorted working the worst of the tangles free with a brush and comb. He eyed the hand pump, sighing, he sent out some magic to work the pumps drawing ice cold water from the well, the gears in the piston squealing like a pig with a broken leg. It was unpleasant to listen to, Dorian’s jaw tightening as he preened, brushing his beard, exercising worn patience as the pool filled.

Satisfied with the water level at last he cancelled the spell, Dorian huffing a sob of relief kicking his magic towards heating the water. It would be worth it in the end- he had gone too long without this comfort and felt like a mad man when he could finally have it another flick of his wrist and he beamed at the steaming pool. Layer by layer his robes fell off to the floor for laundering after he was done his bath. Perhaps he should just burn them? 

He’d decide later, he had a spare set, but, money was tight and he couldn’t risk destroying still serviceable clothing at the moment. Had he still had the comforts of Tevinter at his disposal he wouldn’t have thought twice about destroying the soiled clothes. Dorian dipped his foot into the water and crooned; languidly slipping into the water, bar of soap in hand, face smug as aches and pains melted away; closing his eyes he submerged himself, scrubbing his skin almost raw.

This was magnificent, even if he was the only soul in the whole damn castle. Dorian floated on his back eyes half closed, soaking in the liquid heat and imagining his woes melting away into the water long hair fanning out around his shoulders traveling down his back. He’d have to do something about that, lifting his head out of the water was a problem. He stood in the pool wringing out his hair and wrinkling his nose in disgust at the curls and waves that formed. No, this wouldn’t do at all. His mind drifted, as it was want to do these days. On the road when he could he would just soak himself with icy waters from a fall and spend the next hour casting heating spells on himself, his purse was too tight as of late and he had precious little to sell. He could sell his amulet; despite the bitterness that clung to his chest and clawed at his throat; he couldn’t bring himself to part with, what he felt, was his last remaining piece of home. Sentimentality was for the weak- echoes of his father’s voice made his lips curl in an angered grimace. 

Dorian dropped his hair onto his shoulder, and glared at his pack where his amulet rested. His leg muscles working overtime as he waded through the bath water, stalking towards his belongings. He grabbed his razor and scissors roughly making the metal sing as the tools scraped along the smooth surface. His mind had settled down once he began shaving, kneeling in front of the large glassy mirror, well there was that handsome jaw line again. It was amazing how a simple thing like shaving improved his outlook. 

Bit by bit he hacked away at his locks leaving the top longer for now, his usual style required a more delicate hand, the sides and back was easy enough once he had gotten to the point where he could shave the skin there in comfort. There was so much hair that fell about his person making him itch. Oh dear, another excuse to bathe… whatever shall he do? He checked his appearance, his eyes flicking studying the contrasting lengths, a few snips here and there and he’d have quite the look. It was both fashionable and practical- he could keep himself warm still in the ridiculous weather patterns of Ferelden, he smoothed the bulk of his hair off to one side, nodded, then smoothed it straight back. Nodding again “Dorian, you’ve done it again.” 

\----

The more that Dorian wandered this castle, the more he believed that the owner had up and left this place. Only luck and timing kept the food preserved and water pumps in working order or was it some secret magic of abandoned places? The mage studying the holes and damage in certain areas, braving battered steps to the next floor, using his staff to vault over bits of roof, “Maker’s ass…” he said, “The bloody hell happened here?” 

Curiosity drove him to explore, he needed to know the story of this castle, perhaps find a map or the mummified remains of the previous owner in one of the larger bed chambers? Dorian just wished that he could hold a conversation with some of the corpses he raised- at least the more interesting and intelligent looking cadavers. The mage’s fingers closed on an ornate door handle, he paused, humming. This handle was different than the rest- Orlesian in origin with the ivy motif. The master chambers perhaps? Dorian eased the door open slowly to avoid too much noise. Once in the threshold, he tapped his staff a few times, making the tip glow a faint teal. He whistled eyeing the long tables, overturned musty arm chairs and walls upon walls of shelves and an eerie white and grey sheen over everything from possibly a whole colony of spiders. 

Dorian brushed away the cobwebs, thick with dust and age; he stared at the well preserved spine of a red leather bound tome. “Oh…” he exhaled, face twisting with emotion as tears pricked his eyes, “They do have books.” He teased. 

This called for a fresh mug of fermented swamp water. He would wait out this storm in relative style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that I'm also a sucker for long haired Dorian?
> 
> [ Inspiration for Dorian's hair. ](http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_l4oscqN2ie1qzjqjro1_500.jpg) I found it through a google search, but it didn't link through to the actual page. :/ I would love to give credit where credit is due so if someone could help me out a bit I'd love to link through to the OP's page.


	4. Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull and his Chargers return victoriously drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Beta- expect sudden changes as usual as I re-read the chapter in a paranoid fashion.

Bull and the rest of his men had partied clean through the storm, which had lasted four days. By the end of all of the partying, sex and hangovers they saddled up and dragged themselves home singing off key bawdy tunes that would make any grandmother in a 9 mile radius blush while she hung her laundry to dry. 

Bull honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Dalish belched loudly draping herself on her mare still reeking of alcohol and giggling manically at herself. “The bubbly stuff is the best Ser…”

“I know, Dalish.” 

“It’s Bubbly.” she snorted breaking into another fit. Dalish apparently could handle most everything else save for Antivan champagne. Two bottles of the stuff and she was still as blitzed as ever. Bull rode beside her, catching her whenever she slipped too far right or left. 

It would be a long time before Bull allowed her anywhere near ‘the bubbly stuff’ again, even if it was a source of cheap entertainment. Well, not so cheap, but, if someone else was paying for it…

“Skinner make sure she gets to bed alright when we get back to base.” 

“I’ll make sure there are a few buckets as well.” Skinner sighed. 

“Grim we need to make room for better stock. Want to help Rocky set up the trebuchets?” 

“Ah.” Grim’s eyes lit up a little. 

“Good man.” 

The Ferelden Beer had to go. Bull knew no sane person alive would ever drink the stuff. He was thankful he wasn’t the one that bore the brunt of that burden for the taste test. That reminded him- he’d have to shuffle some extra pay towards Skinner for that.

Krem, was the only one stone cold sober. He probably spent most of his time out in the storm grinning like a mad man. Bull studied his lieutenant for a time, waiting watching for a sign of a cold or anything. But as far as he could tell, Krem was Krem. 

“Anything you need done back at the fortress Chief?” 

“Don’t you ever stop working?” Stitches asked with a huff, Krem just shrugged by means of response. 

Bull considered just telling Krem to relax like the rest of them, “Ah just check to see if we have enough room for the good shit next to the bad shit.”

“Anything else, Chief?” 

“Learn how to relax.” 

* 

Dorian had made himself to home in the castle. There was a cozy little bedroom right off of the library that suited him just fine- neither too small nor too large and it housed his precious little belongings while he was out exploring the castle. Of course he had to be mildly sober and not reading to do so. He’d complain about the dust in the library, but, that would mean inviting more dust particles into his lungs. 

The mage had turned the room into his own, making a proverbial nest out of blankets and pillows he had kicked the dust out of. Technically, he had just magically smacked them against trees outside until the plumes of dust stopped. His limber form was curled around his wooden tankard as he slept off the latest buzz. There was a small notebook he had set on the bedside table, monitoring this beer’s effect on him. It was all around just a bizarre beer, and it certainly didn’t start tasting better after each mugs worth. He stretched himself out languidly and stared up at the opposite wall. He had pinned the map of the whole castle to a wooden board, with pieces of note paper written in red ink of which sections were damaged, which sections were in proper order and ‘stumbled through drunk re-explore’. 

He didn’t see the need to leave; no one was here, save for the occasional mouse nest. It wasn’t like anyone would think to look for him here either. Should the owner re appear in one form or another he’d slip out under cover of darkness and leave a note that insulted the man’s taste in beer (As was tradition now), in the library and hoped that he might discover it sometime between now and the next Blight.

Dorian stretched again, getting out of the tangle of blankets he had worked himself into overnight, primed his appearance for no particular audience, save whatever forgotten spirits might be roaming about the halls and slid out of his hiding spot for a late breakfast. 

There was a secret passage way from the far back corner of the library, ease a book shelf out of the way, the more Dorian used this route the less the hinges whined so he made it a part of his routine to do this at least once a day. He hopped over the books he had thrown over his shoulder in his browsing, nothing but propaganda, past his preferred arm chair through the passage way and to the kitchens after the "Y" split. Dorian kept his hands up brushing against the roughly hewn stone, there were spots here and there where the floor was slick from condensation and a leaking roof what felt to be miles above his head. 

Dorian smiled when he saw the light peeping from the kitchens, his time spent south had gifted him with a slight ability to forage for food. He had found a whole rash of edible wild vegetables, and other meats so he wasn’t dipping into more travel worthy stocks. 

He had just enough wild berries for a light breakfast, he popped a few of them into his mouth while he waited for water to boil for tea- which he had discovered on a shelf the second morning of his stay. One sniff told him it was not only still fresh, but also a Tevinter blend- black tea with undertones of orange peel. He had been more ginger with this supply than the Ferelden Beer. Just enough to make one very small cup of tea, just a small taste of home, just one… 

Dorian shouldn’t do this to himself; he shouldn’t want to head back looking like a whipped child. His pride wouldn’t allow it. He sipped his tea sitting on one of the wooden tables under one of the windows, legs folded into one another and his back pressed firmly against the stone surface, pecking at his bowl of fruit. Pity he couldn’t call this place home, just a little longer. His eyes fell closed as he took the final sip of tea, picturing more glamourous times, as the smooth liquid slid down his throat warming him from the inside out, he sighed softly making ready to hop down from his perch when he heard the sounds of horses and men talking, a low rumble of wooden wheels digging into dirt and various heavy items shifting in the carts that bore them. 

“Alright boys, good work. We’ll set everything in the store room and we’ll have a nice few days off. Rocky, Grim good luck with the trebuchets on the Eastern Wall.” 

“Aye Chief.” 

Kaffas. 

Dorian shot off of his spot on the table and made a mad dash for the stairs. From the sounds of his voice and the large hooves of the mount that bore him, this “Chief” looked to be a big son of a bitch. Crossing paths with him sounded dangerous, and should be avoided at all costs, since his spine was a precious one of a kind commodity. 

He could wait them out if he was careful, wait for them to either leave again or wait until the dead of night to leave. For now he just wanted to return to his room by the library. He scrambled up the steps, his feet slid along the slick flagstone as he rushed, he slipped cracking his head on the stone. It made him pause swaying as his world spun all the harder, he ended up going slower his fingers gripping the walls. No more slipping, he couldn’t afford to be caught bleeding to death on these steps, if he was discovered at all. ‘Let’s not think of that right now Pavus.’ Dorian thought. 

\----

Krem was glad to be home, he looked around eyeing the stocks. How odd… the apple barrels were lighter as was the dried meat. For now, the lieutenant shrugged it off thinking that Dalish pocketed some extra tart apples for herself and Bull more than likely was being generous with his own portions for the journey… He thought nothing off it. 

The boys had been kind enough to shove fresh supplies into the store room before staggering off to their rooms. He began knocking the casks of Ferelden Beer, testing the barrels make to see if they could make it to the Eastern Wall in one piece. Krem paused at the slightly more hollow sound the main cask gave off. Krem’s face pinched then- he knocked a bit harder. No one in their right mind would dip into this swill even if they were blitzed out of their minds. 

“This isn’t right.” 

\----

The Iron Bull had a gold rimmed monocle perched on his nose as he wrote with is pen in small letters into his ledger book. Stacks of coins next to various leather coin pouches with coded emblems, it was one of Krem’s more genius moments for pay outs, and was one of the first things he implemented during the band’s start up. 

There was a knock, there was only one soul that could be, “Come on in Krem-de-le-Crème.” 

There was a disgusted groan as Krem entered. “Chief… I’ve found something odd with one of the casks of Ferelden Beer.” 

“Did you open one of them up and see floating rats?” 

“No…” 

“Damn. It would explain so much.”

“Chief I’m serious.” 

“I’m listening, Krem.” He set his quill to the side and put his reading monocle next to it, he leaned on his elbows folding his fingers in front of his face. 

“The one cask is… Half gone, chief.” 

“The one we opened? The one where Skinner took one sip and spent half the night sick as a dog? Oh that reminds me.” He threw in a few extra sovereigns into her pouch, “Collateral.” 

“Chief… something’s going on.” 

“Krem… You’re tired, I insist that you rest. Maybe the thing sprung a leak while we were gone and it dried up.” The Qunari said with a nonchalant shrug. 

“What if something is going on Chief?” Krem’s voice cracked. 

“We’ll do a sweep of the castle when everyone’s sober, for now.” Bull pointed a large finger at Krem, “I want you to rest. I’ve had enough of you running around exhausting yourself for no reason. You’re no good to me half dead from exhaustion, I’d rather not lose the best lieutenant I’ve ever had.” Bull glared at the man.

Krem inhaled sharply, “Alright, Chief, Alright.” 

That cask didn’t spring a damn leak that kitchen would have smelt like an unattended crypt the moment they opened the store room. Krem walked out of the Bull’s study. Perhaps he shouldn’t have barged in while chief was doing pay roll? No matter, he’d keep an ear open. Someone was here… and for their sake they best be gone.


	5. Definitive Search and Destroy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no one can figure out how to relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was later than I originally hoped. I won't go into detail all I can say is I hope I might be able to relax for a bit. Once again no beta. Expect sudden changes.

Krem, dear, precious Krem… was spitting nails when he got to his room. Throwing his clothes and binder chaotically off letting them hit whatever walls they were haphazardly flung towards. Afterwards the cloth and leathers would slump meekly to the floor with a satisfying sort of sound. Krem snorted standing arms crossed over his chest as he glared at his sword as if it would give him the answers to universal mysteries. Get some rest he says… Krem’s lip curled into a snarl.

No… He’d best cool down before he stalked through the halls and began kicking doors of hinges. It was unlike Chief to brush the incident off, but dwelling upon it- he could hardly be surprised. It was just one more thing to worry about and they had just gotten back. He could understand the weariness, but he didn’t have to like it. He checked over his arms and flexed his fingers. 

Falling to his mattress he stared up at the ceiling pillowing his head with his laced fingers. He blinked once, twice. 

He’d find the bastard…

He’d find him…

 

-

 

Bull set his monocle back down rubbing his face. Fuck, what if the cask hadn’t sprung a leak? What if someone was actually able to drink that swill? Bull cradled his chin on curled fingers. No way in hell there wouldn’t be a mess of stomach contents. Not unless there was some major stomach power to keep the liquid in place- If that were the case their balls must be huge.

“Damn it, Krem.” Usually the ‘Vint was seldom wrong about such matters. Bull gritted his teeth, always when he stopped to sit his joints would seize. Moving was a hassle, especially with this large high-backed leather chair, it was more luxurious than what ought to be legal. He groaned his brace creaking with his movement; his foot falls were heavy for the first two steps. Then he tamped down the pain and walked with his usual swagger. 

At least he could poke around the kitchens see if anything was amiss; he’d have to stand there a while to get a feel for the place. Down the stairs, off to the left and there it was a few hundred feet later… He took a deep breath, his eye sliding shut as he focused on the smells- apple, meat, booze, onions. There was the smell of tea- it was faint. Had Krem brewed Tea when he came in to settle supplies down? There was no sign of his infuser nor his preferred mug since he was prone to leaving it out for a second or third steeping from the leaves. 

The apple bins were lower, and the dried meat was certainly a little thinner… but that only read as ‘someone took extra rations’, hardly cause for alarm. Bodies needed fuel, so long as the bulk of it was still there Bull hardly complained. Hell he was guilty of skimming extra rations without getting caught; he got damn good at it back in Par Vollen.

There was a musty smell he couldn’t place, something akin to the smell of aged books. Wafting from one of the walls, strutting over he gave the wall a firm smack, but a loose brick on the opposite wall fell out. “Ah Shit. I don’t know.” He needed more eyes and ears. Rousing his boys was hardly worth the effort at the moment and he certainly didn’t have enough energy to take apart this place for a potential ghost. With a yawn he turned around trudging up the stairs towards his room.

 

-

The sounds from the kitchen sent Dorian nearly flying out of his skin- how could such a sound travel all this way? They must know… He paused listening- someone was trying to take out that false wall weren’t they? He heard something smash and then silence. For several tense heart beats (actually his heart was going so fast he might as well be a hummingbird). He exhaled when nothing came of the noises. Dorian laughed manically, “What a temper!” 

All the more reason to leave! He would have to wait for the initial hunt to be over. No doubt someone had noticed him pinching into their supplies. The question being- could he risk his neck, long enough to dip into their supplies one last time? If Felix where here, he’d probably walk down and introduce himself and just get a kick out of running for his life while Dorian robbed the kitchens blind before making his own escape. Maker, he missed that incorrigible ass.

Dorian sat down on his cot and hummed eyeing his staff; he didn’t need a staff to be dangerous. He also couldn’t risk having to flee and leave it behind. He huffed, best keep it with him. Dorian strapped it to his back and tip toed through the library. Looking for titles he would like to keep for his haul towards his next destination, wherever that might be.

 

\--

Krem had dreamed of this moment, finding this rat bastard in the keep. How he’d flay them open and watch the horror fill their eyes. He couldn’t sleep and he might as well take out the worst of his fantasies on a practice dummy. Who knows it was probably some old man starving or some other sob story that thought they had struck it rich finding viable food in a worn down castle. 

Void take him, Krem knew he’d take advantage of it- that would explain the ability to drink some of the crap that was on offer. 

“You doing alright there, Krem?” 

“Chief?”

“That theory of yours still bothering you?”

It wasn’t a theory, but Bull was standing there calm as could be, “I’ve got the boys sobered up and sniffing around. Skinner was kind enough not to get any drool or foam on my boots this time.” 

“Everyone?”  
“Rocky wasn’t too pleased but to hell with that.” Bull shrugged. 

Krem nodded getting up off of the fallen practice dummy, dagger in hand, he sheathed it. Bull smiled patting his shoulders. 

 

\---

It was an hour of them worming their way through the castle. Dalish and Skinner eased themselves over some of the debris to get to upper levels; they would return minutes later still plucking cobwebs from their faces. Bull was essentially trapped recovering old ground, or new more open ground, some of the hallways were just too narrow for someone his size and with such a broad horn span. 

Krem could be heard opening and slamming doors that would move. Some of the slams seemed to threaten a cave in or two. Rocky hissed warnings at him and the slamming doors all but ceased. 

-

Dorian had taken to his tiny room, his door cracked open just a hair to see if the mysterious and dangerous “them-folk” made it to the library. Books in his pack that he was most keen on reading, he was certain no one would truly miss these books. “They” were one level below him at the moment; admittedly he knew he was a sitting duck. He waited, listened, wondered if they might find a secret passage way. He closed the door, gathered his things and began heading down towards the kitchens and his way out. 

He could hear muffled voices through some of the passageways. 

“I’ll be buggered. If there was someone here they’re gone now- Probably tipped off by all the noise.” 

“Mmm.” 

“I suppose… I – then? I’m sorry for all of this.” The voice was broken and muffled.

“Nah, don’t worry… -- take a look around here. No harm no foul.” Different voice, stronger, deeper, and with an accent Dorian couldn’t place. 

“I’m …. working….trebuchet…”

Dorian strained to hear, his eyes closing. He shook his head. Leave… he had to leave. Just go and run his luck won’t hold out much longer if he stayed. Pity he was going to miss that library. He made his way down slower than normal, if he could hear them to a degree: there was no telling what the owners of this place might be able to hear. 

He had opened the hatch to the passage way when the kitchen door opened. 

“Grim thanks again for this. I know you’d rather be on trebuchet repair but this should perk Krem up.” Dorian froze his body half out of the door; it was that same accent again only much louder, much clearer. 

“Kaffas.” He said slipping backwards as he hauled the door back into place. He scrambled back up the steps putting his hands over his face. He screamed mutely into his palms. If they opened the door now he could always temporarily blind them and run for it. He waited listening to his heartbeat hammer in his throat. If he bolted now, if he went down another path he just knew he’d be discovered. If he could wait them out he might make a clean get away.

Silence fell over the kitchen and there was humming and then some grunting every so often. Dorian huffed waiting for the cook to just leave. Every tiny shift he made in the vain attempt to get comfortable sounded so loud to his ears, the small rustle of cloth sounded like a war drum.  
There was a pleasant smell wafting through the cracks in the door that rooted him to the spot, the longer he waited the hungrier he became. Whomever was on the other side of that wall was an artist, pure and simple.

-

Grim hummed away checking on his pie filling bubbling away on the hearth. There were pie shells already blind baked and cooling down. One giant pie for the Chief, and then smaller ones for the non Qunari-folk, Grim bobbed his head from side to side remembering a tune from the tavern a few miles away, catchy little ear bug that one. Ladle by ladle the filling disappeared, tops were put on the pies and slid into the oven. 

He didn’t mind the quiet, it gave him time to think, he gave the cask of Ferelden Beer a hard knock and listened, it was hollower inside and if there was a hole it hadn’t been worked free from the blow. He crouched down examining the ground for stains. Nothing… 

Grim honestly felt like Krem was right, and he would be willing to bet good money that their “Visitor” was still here. Grim stood and sniffed. Well… for now he’d let them have their laugh. Krem would probably have them swallowing a good portion of their teeth if they didn’t wise up and leave soon. Grim hummed fetching his pies out with all the care a father would his children; he took pride in two things: killing and baking meat pies. Chief should be pleased he found a pie dish large enough to suit him. 

Grim gave the kitchen one last look before departing shutting the door as he went. He paused for a moment and looked over his shoulder. He opened the doors again expecting to see SOMETHING. He grunted shaking his head. This whole intruder thing had everyone on edge. He might as well sharpen a knife or two just to keep his hands busy at this point. 

Dorian opened his passage way almost thirty minutes later. His eyes squeezed shut from the sudden onslaught of brighter light. He was half starved by this point from the smell of freshly cooked food. Focus Dorian- daring escape- daring escape. After some ale and pie damn it… He dug in his pockets for a sovereign, set it on the table and grabbed a knife slicing into the larger pie. This was risky business but- No matter.

They thought him gone so… he’d be gone, after a slab of pie. No more of this even if it was fun to a degree- out foxing the residents. He eyed the gravy thick and rich with a fair bit of wine and seasoning in it. Large hunks of meat, onion and mushroom, he ate happily sitting on his usual perch eyeing the doors of the kitchen he finished the flakey crust set the plate and fork down and slipped up to the passageway veering off towards the emergency exit that pointed him towards the woods- off the main road and potentially out of everyone’s line of sight. 

\--

Bull was so happy for this, comfort food- Pie, glorious, glorious pie. Grim seemed extra pleased with himself, as much as his neutral expression allowed for the “smug” look. Bull could see it, this batch was well neigh perfect and they had plenty of time to cool down by now. 

The boys were tailing him, hell with it early dinner after exploring the castle! Bull opened the door and noticed how “Wrong” the picture was instantly. There was a large pie dish yes, good perfect, a gold piece set off to the side. Questionable but… what upset him the most was the sizable piece cut out of _his_ pie dish. 

“Who.” Bull demanded simply turning his head to his team. 

Everyone had wide eyed shock written on their faces, Krem had a note of ‘I KNEW IT!’ plastered on his tense jaw. 

“Krem, you and I are going to be patrolling the outside. The rest of you- flush this bastard out.”

“How dead do you want him?” Skinner asked. 

“For now we’ll let him live but if you catch ‘em rough ‘em up around the edges.”

Bull was curious to know how they managed to not only evade their search efforts, but also thumb his nose at them at the same time. Where were they hiding? How could they navigate this place better than them? He might make the team if Bull didn’t throttle him to death first.

-

Usually Dorian might start reciting book passages to keep calm, but right now he didn’t want to remember lines from a book in a dead language. But when the whole air of the run down castle shifts to what he could only describe as “hunting”, it was always best to shut up. He over stayed his welcome. Oh Maker that slice of pie was his down fall. 

Worth it though, it was damned delicious. He paused on one step, were these people so upset that he left PAYMENT to the baker? Savages! Absolute bloody savages! Dorian grunted stepping more aggressively now. Sure it could be the fact that he was essentially eating their food, bathing in their water and reading their neglected books. He tried not to be too bad as an uninvited guest (intruder). It wasn’t like he wanted to rob them blind. He just… got a little complacent.

-

Krem wouldn’t call it gloating, but there was: ‘I TOLD YOU SO! SEE! I TOLD YOU SO!’ written all over his face. Bull let him have his victory for now. “Alright Krem you take the North side I’ll take the South and we’ll meet somewhere in the middle. 

“Aye, Chief.” 

“Stop smirking.” 

“Can’t help it, Chief.” Krem rocked on his heels. Why did he let himself suffer with these assholes again? 

“Remember I want answers. Only break their face a little bit.” 

“Aye, Chief.” 

With that the two parted ways, Bull pushing aside bushes and eyeing the tree line for anything bipedal moving about. He huffed, firing some casks of beer into the mountain side would be good right about now, just a bit of destruction, hear everyone laugh, eat some pie. He didn’t sign on for this crap when he moved the boys in. An intruder- a Ferelden Beer drinking, pie stealing interloper.

Krem hummed arms crossed, clearly this person had an advantage they didn’t- they knew this place better than they did. They probably had the time to figure out all the good passages in and out of the place, perhaps it was a local to the village just down the path a few miles? If this search yielded nothing he might knock on a few doors. 

He kept walking looking up and down the walls, poking his nose into areas where he thought might be passageways. He kicked a section of mortar and kept walking. 

-

Dorian saw the boots walking past his exit, so close… so damn close. His heart hammered in his chest and his veins sang with adrenaline. He had to wait… He had to wait. He heard the footsteps die down and he bolted shooting out of the exit like a cork out of a champagne bottle. He hadn’t timed it correctly; he startled the man that was a few feet away poking at some of the bushes. He worked up a spell his fingers fumbling a little as magic flowed around his arm in quick gesture, a speed spell to- 

He was tackled to the ground then. Well shit. Buy time buy time! He was flipped over and a leather gloved fist began to clench high above his face, the leather creaking as the man measured the blow. 

“NOT THE FACE!”

The brunette hesitated. 

“I’m sure we can talk about-” Dorian’s world went dark, for a moment he could have sworn he saw little nugs running around his head. 

Krem shook his head, dropping the mage onto the dirt, a bruise already forming on the man’s left eye. Taking his gloves off and brought his thumb and forefinger to his lips and whistled, the shrill sound slicing through the air. Chief would be here soon, for now, Krem put his foot on the Vint’s chest to hold him in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Chapter six is on the way already, hope you all are enjoying yourselves :3


	6. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull is more than a little curious about the resident "Other 'Vint"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been a never-ending nightmare. Please excuse any goofs on my part. I want to give you guys Chapter 6 before things on my end get worse.  
> 

The sudden shrill whistle that hit The Bull’s ears felt like a whip crack. He spun on his heel, running towards his lieutenant in the far back of the castle. He began thinking of what Krem could have stumbled upon. He personally expected a trail leading off into the woods, maybe they’d have a trail for a little while, and then it would just vanish. He wholly predicted this to be a fruitless slap in the face like everything else had been. There was another whistle that held more annoyance this time. Bull would have a talk about all of this insubordination and soon. His good nature was worn thin with all this needless drama. He rounded the corner sliding along the weeds and grass that grew alongside the castle walls. 

Krem stood still as a statue shoulders tense, his leg perched on a lump on the ground, his arms crossed. Clearly it wasn’t a child or elderly person, Krem would have them sitting upright at the very least. The curled snarl on the brunette’s upper lip told Bull that whomever it was struck a particular sour note. 

Krem looked up upon hearing the Chief approach, though the line of his shoulders eased minutely. “Apparently, Vints do travel this far south.”

“Well of course you’re here.” Bull said in an attempt at humour, the glare Krem gave him was worse than being bitten by a viper. It actually made the Qunari pause- usually the reaction was an eye roll but never something like this. 

Krem’s body language tensed again, a dour expression on his face as he looked down “We’ve got ourselves an Altus mage this time.” The snarl returned the temptation to spit on the man was written on every hard line on Krem’s expression. 

Bull resumed his approach, wanted to scoff but one glance at the fine but dirtied robes told him everything. The finely weaved silk robes along with the odd fetish for belts that was shared by all ranks of Tevinter’s Citizens. “The fuck is his like doing this far south?”

“You’re asking ME?” Krem’s voice cracked. 

“You’re the resident expert.” 

Krem looked ready to stomp the man to death under his heel, eyes narrowed and thigh muscle twitching, his calf muscle rising slowly. 

“I’ll take him Krem. Get the blood hounds to settle down.” Bull watched the foot slide away from the unconscious man. Krem stomped off as he settled his temper. 

Curiosity ate away at the Bull. He had to know WHY this man was here. He studied the man’s face. His styled hair avant-garde even for normal nobles- shaved on one side and long on the other, the long black locks were covered in reddish clay mud. One side of his face was swollen and there was blood trickling down from his aquiline nose. The man clearly took his appearance seriously, everything was pristine down to the cuticles of his finger nails. Shaking his head Bull grabbed a handful of the mage’s clothing hoisting him up easily. The Vint groaned, showing signs of coming to, his fingers twitched and his nose wrinkled in pain. Bull needed him to stay down for a little bit longer, so, he threw the lithe form onto one of his shoulders angling his head so he didn’t get draped (impaled) on his horn instead. The muscle of his shoulder locked as the man’s stomach made contact, he heard the air escape their ‘visitors’ lungs and another groan. The man sagged slowly settling like an ornate towel on Bull’s shoulder. Bull smirked, just a little bit of pay back for the hassle of finding his ass. Speaking of which, Bull gave the Vint’s ass a few pats, smirking to himself that he could get away with coping a feel.

He set the mage down on a chair in his office, having to bounce the man on his should a few times, Bull had to give him credit for tenacity and pure utter balls for his stunts. He MIGHT live if he wasn’t too annoying- Vint’s have surprised him in the past, Krem sure as hell did but then again Soporati grew up under Altus’ thumbs and were no different than most down trodden folk. Tevinter nobles however- some (most) could out do Orlesian dick bags by a country mile. Bull knew better than to hope for anything outside of utter frustration. The instant the mage was set down on a chair, long limbs curled inwards and there was a pained groan, hands cradling his skull. 

He wasn’t going to go anywhere anytime soon, “Dalish a slice of pie please?” he asked when the elf poked her head into his office, looking about as curious as a kitten with her eyes open. He might as well eat while he played the waiting game.

\--

Dorian’s head swum when he came to, he began shifting in his seat and a firm overly warm hand pinned him back to the back of his chair. Dorian’s eyes officially opened well the one opened the other one felt like it was swimming in fluid, he stared down at the muddy foot print on his chest. 

Really? They punched him out and to add insult to injury got his clothes dirty? Brutes. That and he remembered being bounced like a ball on occasion. He studied the grey calloused skin of a giant hand. He looked up his head wobbling a little. Dorian’s grey eye traveled up the dips and swells of one very muscular arm, over more rolling muscles on his shoulder and neck. He took note of all of the scars. His eye traveled along gnarled and thick horns in the space of a blink, his eye shot down to his captor’s face. 

Qunari… 

Why wasn’t he dead yet? Weren’t they still on a ‘kill on sight’ list or something? He was the owner of this castle? Truly? There were a million insults, and a million questions that roved through Dorian’s mind at once. He settled on silence for the time being. 

The great hand retreated and he walked to a chair and sat down. It gave Dorian enough time to get more of his wits about him. The fact that he was just sitting in a chair and not tied down or shackled, the chair he was in was fairly plush and he knew exactly where he was. He looked around to the oak desk and then the bookshelf not far from it, on it was a few finger puppets that were on the shelf. How curious. He felt almost like he could just get up and walk out. He looked to a battle marred face- the eye patch was a nice touch. 

“I must say you’re ballsy. Coming into my stronghold and make yourself to home.” 

“When I came there was no one about.” Dorian said, “I intended to leave.” 

“And?” 

“Clearly, I didn’t.” 

Bull growled, “I’ve questions…”

“I’m afraid my looks are genetic.” 

Another huff this time there was a bit of amusement that sparked in the Qunari’s eye. 'This one is trouble. Pretty and he knows it,' Bull thought, aloud: “Where have you been hiding?” 

“I truly haven’t. I’ve been in the library.”

Bull’s eyebrow rose, “There’s a library?”

Dorian pursed his lips, “It’s very well stocked for being so far South-needs a bit of tending to and dusting." 

“How long have you been here exactly?”

“A few weeks, I suppose?” there was a shrug in the man’s voice. “There was a storm and I stumbled onto this place. I had meant to leave but the books were good and the beer has some rather curious effects on my system.”

“That’s another question- you drank a full cask of Ferelden Beer. HOW.” 

A full cask? That didn’t sound right. 

There was a knock. “Chief.” 

“Krem…” Bull huffed turning his head watching the brunette approach.

“Ah, the one that hit me.” Dorian drawled.

“I’ll do it again, you Altus bastard.” Krem hissed, a clipboard in his hand, he made a lunge for Dorian. ‘Chief’ held out his hand his fingertips barely touching the armour the man wore. 

“Not now Krem. What brings you here?” 

Krem huffed, “Chief, I need to let you know.” 

“What is it Krem that can’t wait for later?”

“It’s gone.” Krem blurted he seemed to forget Dorian’s existence for a moment. 

“What’s gone?”

“The Ferelden Beer, it’s… it’s all gone. Stitches and Grim were making ready to move them out.”

Dorian seemed surprised even; then, a few drunken memories came back. He remembered muttering to himself about Maker knew what and levitating a cask into place. He had blacked out afterwards. There were more battle worn faces peering in at Dorian when he looked back down from his vision. Several faces and bodies filing into the room, but holding farther back. 

Bull knew his mouth was hanging open ever so slightly; there were six or so sizable barrels! His head snapped back towards the jet haired man. “Explain.” 

“Scientific curiosity I assure you. I’m short on coin at the moment but …” 

“Short on coin?” Bull glared, that was a shit lie and a half.

“Well, yes.” Dorian said, with a blink.

“You managed to pay a full sovereign when you took a rather sizable chunk of meat pie.”

“Merely paying the Baker for such fine artistry, I assure you.”

“Mm!” Grim dislodged himself from the crowd to fetch the coin. Dalish and Skinner both shook their heads in dismay.

“How did you get to the kitchens without us noticing you?” Krem asked leaning forward, shifting himself closer to the Qunari's right side. 

“Passage ways.” Dorian said nonchalantly, “Some of them are in better condition than the main halls. You… Didn’t know about them?”

Bull shook his head, even if he did know about them, he more than likely wouldn’t have been able to fit. Damn it all, he should have spent more time poking around. Oh no, pay the boys- run missions! Bull growled, the same thought running over and over though his mind. He had gotten sloppy, and this was the result. He let it go, focusing on what to do with the jet haired man. He admitted he was stumped, he was certain he’d be useful, but harder to handle than an unbroken stallion throwing a temper tantrum. The man’s staff was on the far wall but that didn’t mean shit, Vint’s bred their offspring to be power houses for magic, Bull could smell ‘Old Money’ and even older Blood coming off of this man. He had to commend them for the design of this one. He looked like a damn gilded peacock, Black eye notwithstanding.

Krem held back, his hand resting on the back of Bull’s arm chair, squeezing it hard enough to make the leather creak. But their enigmatic mage didn’t flinch. Either he honestly didn’t feel threatened, was a brilliant actor or had resigned himself to whatever fate decreed. 

“Who exactly are you… Obviously you’re from Tevinter.” 

“Ah. Introductions!” He lit up at the chance to stroke his ego. He gave them a toothy smile ignoring the pain on one half of his face, “Dorian of House Pavus, Most recently of your musty library. How do you do?”

“The Iron Bull and these are My Chargers.” Bull gestured with a small head jerk. Introductions were for people not on his shit list. 

Dorian grunted, ‘Chief’ sounded better to him. “Mercenaries, I take it?” 

“Aye…” Krem grunted. 

Dorian looked at the rest of group present… it was a small band, he had honestly expected more. He didn’t ask about the rest of the company, the distraction would do him no good. He might as well get his sentence to death done and over with, though the only one that looked ready to strike him dead was this “Crème” Fellow. “Well since I’ve clearly over stayed my welcome-”

“Are you honestly going to try and walk out of this?” Krem snarled. 

“Do you see me standing my dear man?” Dorian asked pointing to his stationary legs. “I was going to offer my knowledge of your ‘strong hold’ I’ve a map up in the room I inhabited, perhaps it will aid you in your cause?”

Oh, he could play his cards; he had enough time to gather leverage… He made a fucking MAP of this place. Bull wanted to sit in utter silence and try and pick this man’s facade apart so he could see the true reasoning behind his actions. Bull’s eye narrowed at Dorian, or was this a ruse so he could try and escape again? 

“Very well Vint…” Bull hissed, “Escort me to this library and show me this map of yours.” 

Dorian eyed him, eyes lingering on his shoulders and then his horns, he turned in his seat eyeing a nearby wall, “You might fit?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for reading. Please feel free to drop me a line or anything over on my Tumblr I would love to have a chat with you lovely people :3


	7. The Library

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long Last- Bull finally gets to poke around his strong-hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for waiting. For those that have seen the previous "chapter Sevens"- I'm doing alright, I'm treating myself as well as I can.

Bull had to keep his head twisted to one side, the 'Other Vint', nah, just "Vint" will do for now, would pause and twist his head mimicking Bull's current angle to his head. Wither or not he was mocking Bull was up for debate.

“It will be tight through here for a little while.” Dorian murmured pausing on occasion if Bull struggled getting the angle right with his horns as they carved their way up through this snake path of a stair case.

Irritated, Bull growled, “I’ve a feeling you’re hiding something.” His lip twitched when the Vint’s eyes lit up. He took the time to get a bead on the mage’s tells.

He’d smirk, or fold his arms and jut his hip bone off to the side. Even his eyes would reveal some small detail here or there. 

“Suspicious!” Dorian crowed, “Hardly becoming of you. This IS the easiest path, the main route is more open but the debris makes the tunnel here a cake walk.” Easy for him to say… he wasn’t the one filing a set of horns down on roughly hewn stone.

“You mean.” 

“If you like dealing with a collapsed roof on a set of stairs that threatens to break free any moment- by all means lets head back and ignore the fact we are a mere two more flights away from the library.” 

Bull squinted his eye at Dorian, “How’d you get past the stairs then? Were you always using the tunnels?”

Dorian shook his head, “No, I gingerly made my way over the debris and found the tunnels after poking around a bit more. You’re far too cumbersome for such balancing.” The Mage spun on his heel, starting up the stairs again.

“You’d be surprised about my balancing skills vint.” The constant rubbing on his horns combined with the grinding sound was enough to make his neck itch. “I’ve dealt with tighter. This is merely more annoying and less pleasant than most.” He couldn’t get a good angle, walking sideways didn’t help much at all, he’d rather be stuck with itching skin and a nice view than stone…

‘The Vint is probably playing along for now. He has the advantage he could be leading me to a dead end.’ 

‘Was he flirting?’ Dorian thought, ‘No. Couldn’t possibly. Everyone knows Qunari don’t do such things.’ He reflected on Bull's words, unsure if it was off phrasing or not. 

There was more silence, Bull studied the stiff line on Dorian’s back, he was uneasy. Bull would have felt offended if he had a stick up his ass, he got it, Vints and Qunari were supposed to go out of their way to kill each other. Bull had enough of that shit in Seheron, if the Vint made a move Bull would stop him dead. He decided to test the waters, “At least take the skirt off.”

“I beg your pardon?” Dorian’s head snapped around, looking more confused. Well that got his attention.

“Your skirt, at least ruck it up a bit.” 

“Why?” The Mage sounded more like a confused tot in that moment than a fully grown human man.

“It’s boring staring at stone, and I bet you have a nice ass under that skirt.”

Dorian shook his head as if ridding his ears of water, “They’re robes!” He blurted.

“Looks like a skirt to me.” Bull shrugged a little. 

“Why on…” Dorian broke off in a snort and there was a bit more colour to his cheeks. Well now… 

“It’ll make the view more interesting.” Bull tried not to let the smile he felt reach his face.

“I am not going to- to…” he stuttered this wasn’t a conversation he was prepared for! Dorian’s brain was stunned into silence. He stared at Bull, foot frozen mid motion on the stairs. 

Bull grunted, “It will distract me from the pain in my neck too.” He offered trying a mournful begging stare. He didn't expect anything, but if he could get that little stutter back he would be well on his way towards _something_.

Dorian stalked up the stairs even faster. “My posterior is of no concern to you!” 

“It is when I’m keeping my temper in check for you making me squeeze through here.” 

Dorian tutted sourly, “Bitch, whine and complain.” 

Bull smirked, oh there was some fire in that Vint, and it was _gorgeous_. ‘He’s more dangerous than I thought.’ He should have brought back up with him. Given enough time this one could probably seduce his way out of anything. ‘Though what Vint would stoop to lay with a Qunari Savage is beyond me… but there was… damn it something there. Temptation?’ It made Bull offhandedly wonder what sort of propaganda the Vint’s were concocting now. He might ask to see Dorian’s face light up in a blush. 

He almost didn’t notice Dorian slipping through a small stone panel, the space wasn’t large enough for him to squeeze through, and a growl threatened to leave his throat until Dorian’s fingers came to view and began pulling. The rust on the hinges squealed in a growing pitch, like a tea kettle that had been on the fire too long. Bull helped him push until he could squeeze through, Dorian stood farther back, trying to glare (and mostly succeeding) at the Bull. 

“I managed to remove one layer of the cobwebs mind you.” He said crossing his arms, looking defiantly into Bull’s eye. 

Bull liked defiance, kept him on his toes, he could have FUN with defiance. He looked around ignoring the vain attempts to get under his skin. The Vint will have to try much, much harder to egg him on. He looked around, nodding his approval at the multiple shelves. “Well. Since we couldn’t have our fun with shooting the Ferelden Beer to the mountain side… a few books and shelves will do the trick.” 

The look on Dorian’s face screamed panic, “YOU WOULDN'T!” 

Bull held his ground watching the rage sweep over the mage’s face watching his pretty face morph into something a kin to a dragon ready to spit fire. Bad metaphor, makes him too desirable. He smiled at Dorian then laughed. “The look on your face!” 

Dorian froze staring at the Qunari, head and shoulders taller than him and could break his neck with his thumb. But the mere thought of _his_ books being launched towards mountains by a bunch of uncouth backwater mercenary brutes had his blood on fire. He stopped thinking for a moment, Dorian had to jump to reach Bull’s cheek better, his fist hitting the equivalent of living steel. 

Bull’s cackling stopped for a moment and he stepped back, not by Dorian’s actual blow, but, the shock that the mage was not only brazen enough but angry enough to actually attempt it. Bull stared at Dorian, all fire and smoke and glorious anger, fists clenched at his sides making ready to lash out again ignoring the bruises already forming on his knuckles. 

Dorian was working up a spell; he freely admitted he was in the wrong for lingering here for so long. But to destroy vessels containing hard won knowledge (some of them were complete trite but that was beside the point!) “You Lummox stop your smirking!” he spat angered all the more by the beast's smiling.

Bull began laughing again, hard enough to bend at the waist one arm cradling his gut as he laughed loud and long, “You’re glorious! You actually thought I would!” 

Dorian felt a muscle in his face twitch; he spun around storming to his little haven off the library. Anything to get away from this… this… bumbling lummox of a barbarian, he could still hear Bull tittering as he padded behind him like a long eared hunting hound. No, he needed space, no more of this.

He didn’t know what this was. He and Felix used to tease each other, but nothing like this. This was uncharted waters and Dorian was unsure where safety was, save for ‘away’ and in his little nest of a room. 

Bull eased off of Dorian again, giving him the space he needed. He’d push the Vint around, but not enough to drive him off. He could be good fun to have around once the boy’s got their feathers settled down. ‘He could make the team… should he want it.’ This wasn’t a draft situation. A door was flung open and the small little room appeared, the bed under a window took up a good third of the space piles of books were another third and then a small desk and chair was the rest. 

Bull thought it odd the Prince of a Vint would stoop so low to have such a small room when he could have literally his run of the castle. But here he was in this womb-like room and a bed that looked more like a bird’s nest. There was a small board made of cork (falling apart and slightly dry rotted) over the desk, pinned to it was the map of the place with hand writing, the script was sharp but legible in a few areas the letters shook and the spelling and elegant scrawl slurred. He wandered around drunk in this place? Either he had no self-preservation or he had a superiority complex when he was drunk. Both… most probably both. 

Dorian unpinned the map folded the map forcing it into Bull’s hand, still looking sore about his joke. He might call this one “Bookworm”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for stopping by and thank you to everyone that has sent me messages of support they mean so much to me.


	8. Required Reading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull hunts for specific books.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't expected Chapter 8 to write itself but it practically did. I'm a bit surprised all things considered.

Bull took the map and nodded, “Seems like you like this place enough.” 

“It is sufficient for a run down hovel.” Dorian said fiddling with one of his piles of books. Trying to keep his hands busy and his eyes OFF of the hulking Qunari. 

Bull nodded, he stepped back noting the Mage’s guarded body language. Any sort of attempt at pleasant chit-chat would be met with hostility and even more hostile facial expressions. 'Give him space.' Bull craned his neck slowly to look at the shelves of books. He chose a random one an began studying it. It was clear that this man didn't clean often (or at all) but the gentle way he rid the dust and cobwebs from the tomes and the attempts to clean was evident. Pity that he seemed to favour books over actual sentient beings, but given enough time Bull figured he’d work out the reasoning behind it. That is if he stayed. It all lay on a possibility, a ‘what if scenario’. 

He wondered if he might find something for the Boys. He knew Stitches always sought any sort of medical journal, Krem was all for High Seas novels, Skinner and Dalish liked to giggle at Botany books together. Grim… Grim he knew read, but, there was no rhyme or reason to his reading especially when he jumped around in the book when he read as if searching for the prime bits of information. Rocky he never saw read, he seemed more content to fill blank books with pages and pages worth of notes. 

Bull had a few books he was keen on trying to find and read. They were prized and rare, but he had a small hope for this library of having them. It seemed well stocked, probably even old enough to have them. 

Dorian was curious where this was going, 'What am I doing, what am I waiting for? I should just be in his bed with a blanket pulled over my head.' Dorian huffed, settling for trying to clean himself up, trying to get these blood stains out of his robes would take a miracle, not to mention the mud. Kaffas, he had to at least try to salvage his traveling robes. He sighed inwardly settling on checking on his face and definitely NOT staring at the behemoth Qunari. He’d admit to nothing, and he certainly wasn’t going to make a case study of all the scars on the man’s back alone, nor… nor… Maker’s ball sack why must he wear THOSE pants? Hideous striped monstrosities more suited for a honey bee than a trained killer. 

Dorian finished cleaning up his face getting most of the blood from out of his mustache before venturing out hesitantly as The Iron Bull peered at the titles, hand raised so he could track the titles better with his fingertip. On occasion he heard a small rumble.

“Looking for something?” 

“Oh don’t tell me you know all of the books that are in here as well Vint.” Bull grimaced. Dorian felt almost pleased that the mercenary thought he was _that_ good.

“No. Merely curious to what you might want to read.” He made no additional comment especially when the Qunari began his hunt again.

“Hmm. I’m not expecting anything but it’s nice to find something to read outside of job offers.” Bull smirked, then he paused with a frown, there was a piece of note paper wedged between two books, he pulled it out and opened it. The hand was shaky clearly Dorian was drunk when he wrote: “Dorian of House Pavus was here and the owner of this castle has shit taste in beer.” Bull’s head snapped towards him after he was done reading. “HEY!” 

Dorian at least looked ashamed, “I had forgotten about that.” 

“Says the man that drank all of the said "shit beer"!” Bull wove the note but there was no fire or malice in his face or voice. 

“For Scientific Purposes I assure you!” 

“I hate to know what you’re insides look like to manage to keep that stuff down.”

“I guess gutting isn’t on the means of my disposal then. What will it be then?” 

Bull’s lips pursed together, “Good question.”

“Sewing my lips shut? Binding my hands together?”

“I was just thinking of a gag.” Bull shrugged, “Maybe spank you a little and send you off.” 

“Spank… what on.” 

There we go. Bull kept his face impassive while Dorian sputtered, trying to process his flirtation. Oh, the Vint was fun to flirt with, but if there was a demand for him to stop. Bull would. Until then, any opening he had he'd take.

Bull hummed continuing on his search, since, there was very little going on in the ways of conversation. That was until Bull found a title, “I don’t believe it.” 

Dorian grunted, “Did you find something about how to coordinate your fashion choices?” he snapped.

“Better.” He hauled the large leather bound tome up to the light. “The Observers Book of Monsters by Claude Savagely. I’ve been dying to see if this thing was just a joke but it’s REAL.” Bull rushed his book over to a table nearby and began hunting with a renewed vigor. 

Dorian was left speechless once more; he wasn’t expecting such a title to be on the Qunari’s reading list. What did he stand to gain from something so comical sounding? He didn’t hear the man move for the most part, but on occasion he would hear his foot tap impatiently. He watched a big hand come up to mop away some of the cobwebs and Dorian's brain halted. Dorian rushed to make sure some of the older books didn’t get damaged; he had a few tomes crumble to dust when he was just starting to clean this place. He shoved at Bull’s ribs, “Not so hard you oaf- you could damage something!” 

Bull stared down at him eye flicking towards his hand and then the cobweb and he tapped the thick membrane of dust and spider silk puncturing it, then pulled it down still staring at Dorian. “You’re a bigger Bookworm than I thought. High aims to be a librarian Vint? I’m not out to destroy books. Be sure of that.” 

Dorian snorted letting Bull clear away the film as he pleased. “Is there harm in me enjoying books?”

“Nope.” Bull said simply “Scooch over a bit.” 

Dorian stepped back holding himself. 

“Aw geeze, now you’re sulking.”

“I am not.” 

“Do you want me to kiss it better?”

The blush was all he needed to see, Bull didn’t dare laugh, but he did allow Dorian to shove him on the ribs again. 

“Insane… you’re bloody--- bleeding insane!” 

“Aww.” Bull crooned, returning to his hunt. Not this shelf best try the next one. The organization of these books was the absolute pits. He could bet good money this dangerously pretty blushing Mage would have it alphabetized and categorized given enough time. Bull would let him; this was Dorian’s domain as far as he cared. 

‘Shit I’m make it sound like he’s on the team.’ Bull thought, dejectedly he admitted he had grown fond of teasing him and having the Vint push back (with surprising force actually). Bull turned on his heel to check the next shelf.

Dorian knew he was blushing, and that on its own was impressive to him. Why was he so tempted by the propositions? He shouldn’t be. These sorts of temptations were what landed him in hot water back home. 

Then Bull began shaking, then chuckling which began to irrupt into outright cackling and applause. “The son of a bitch has it!” he tore the book from the shelves but none of its bedfellows followed. Bull held up the book for Dorian’s inspection face split wide in a toothy smile, eye sparkling with mirth. 

It was a thinner book than the previous tome the Qunari had pulled. In a fanciful script the title looked serious enough. But the words and the name sank in and he had to read it aloud: 

“23 Unique Sleeping Positions by A. Randy Dowager.” Dorian knew then, if he didn’t leave he would figure out what exactly made this Mercenary tick. He turned heel and made to escape back into his rabbit hutch of a room. Puns. No thank you, not right now.

A gray arm curled around his shoulders and neck and he was hauled back into a solid mass. Dorian struggled trying to peel the man’s arm off of him but Bull was cackling. 

“Come on Bookworm the boys are waiting for us.” 

“And why exactly do I have to come with you?” 

“Good impressions.” Bull said simply, “I return and you don’t? Either: I don’t find you trust worthy or I popped your head like a grape.” 

“Oh, like what you’re doing now then?” Dorian wheezed and the grip slackened.

“Sorry about that, come on. Let’s go.” Still holding on to Dorian he began to walk and the mage began struggling like a fish out of water.

“I can walk!” 

“Eh, I like ruffling your feathers.” Bull smirked letting him go, ruffling the mage’s hair. Dorian shrieked but to his surprise, the oaf fixed his hair to some degree, getting the larger displaced locks back on the appropriate side. Bull puffed his chest a little, “There, all pretty again.” 

Dorian fell silent trying to process what this could possibly mean, just to do anything with his hands he fiddled with his appearance, his stomach felt like it was doing this odd tumbling sensation. He looked up at the sound of Bull opening the main door, “Down that way?”

“I’ll be fucked if I let you pack me into that passage way again. You and the boys can use ‘em fine. Me? Not so much.” 

Dorian stared at the Qunari, narrowing his eyes at the mercenary, trying to pick him apart. Eyes sharp and intelligence making grey eyes almost glow, it was a good look on him. He noticed that the mage’s jaw would open and close as if chewing on tough bit of meat. Then there was a tremor to his lip. Dorian wanted to know, but the question sat heavy on the ‘Vint’s tongue. He was being pushed too far too fast and Bull needed to snap him out of this head space. The easiest way to do so was to change the subject. 

“Hike up the skirts Mage boy we’ve got a mess on the stairs, no need for you tripping.” 

Dorian snorted, giving him a rude hand gesture. That was better. 

Watching Bull make his way down the steps was… interesting, he didn’t think such a massive man could balance so gingerly on rubble, Bull had done something like this before, and from the stony face he made. Dorian figured he had a few stories of his own to share over hard liquor and a day old hang over on top of it. 

The two made it in once piece on the landing below, both freezing when the rubble began to shift. Bull grabbed Dorian by the shoulder urging him to continue. “First order of business clear the stair cases.” The Iron Bull said to no one in particular. They walked faster when the rumble began to grow louder, eyes facing forward. They didn't bother stopping until they reached the large study that Bull called his Office. He fetched out the map at one point stopping Dorian from entering. The faint sound of the boys' worried chattering sliding from under the door. 

Bull held up the map as if presenting a contract, “I’m not ordering you to stay.” He stated bluntly. 

Dorian felt his nose crinkle; he really should at least make the attempt to keep his face still, easier said than done with this oaf throwing him for a loop every other minute. 

“You’re free to go but we really could use your help. Map or not you've got a better bead on this place than myself and my boys.” 

“You want me to stay?”

“Aye.” Bull nodded.

“I’m hardly trust worthy.” 

“Nah, we’re fine. So long as you don't go around setting fire to innocent bystanders and using blood magic. The boys will come around in their own time.” 

“And Krem?” It was Krem right? He heard Bull use the name more than once.

“I trust Krem and he trusts me, he wouldn’t be my Lieutenant otherwise. Just keep your Vint-ness to a minimum and he’ll settle down. What do you say? No hard feelings if you leave, no one will come to hunt you down like the last time.” He offered his hand. 

Dorian considered it and looked around, “Very well… I want my damn staff back, however.” Dorian took the Bull’s hand watching the majority of his bronzed skin disappear as if being swallowed by granite. 

“Can do.”


	9. Work Begins [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!  
> Bull and his Chargers (Plus one) start work on the strong hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I'm almost 10 chapters in and accidentally had more plot than porn- and it was supposed to be porn with plot. Whoops.
> 
> I didn't mean to make everyone wait so long for a new chapter. But with this whole (for lack of a better term) process of things- I'm still trying to get motivation, focus and drive back. I've started drawing a little again, which is good. I might be making fan art at some point.
> 
> The section that is NSFW will be clearly labeled.

Krem couldn’t keep still; he hopped up and began tidying something else in the kitchen. Sure he trusted Chief’s intuition. Sure, he’s never been wrong before but why he gave an Altus his staff back and let him stay after he **stole** from their stocks was beyond him. At least the bastard did his best to pull his weight, or as much weight he was willing to pull. He hung back, probably for the best, lest his pretty nails be damaged. Krem huffed. He knew it was unfair of him to judge. The Altus had prevented Skinner from getting crushed when they cleared the last of the debris off the main stair cases. 

“Need to work it out Krem?” Bull asked casually, leaning against the casks of fresh Whiskey. “Bash some shields, wreck a few sparing swords?”

“No chief.” Krem huffed, “I just…” 

“Don’t like the Vint. Can’t say I blame you, he does have a way of hitting nerves if you let him.” 

“You put him on the books Chief.” Krem rounded, “I saw you do it: Dorian “Bookworm” Pavus.” 

“He pulls his weight Krem, besides he’s more than paid back the missing food as for the Ferelden Beer- that was community service as far as I care. Come on let’s get you out of here and smacking things with a big ass hammer. You like that.” 

“What are we working on?” Krem asked, easily being guided by Bull’s hand at the base of his shoulder.

“We’re busting into a few of the rooms, seeing if there’s anything of value about, sell it so we can forgo a job for a bit longer.” Bull said, “A working holiday or something.” 

Chief was never for a big company, he selected who he felt were trustworthy and learned their quirks. So far as Krem knew, the Chief hadn’t done that with the Vint. In fact he seemed more than willing to let the Vint have free reign without check. The bastard Vint seemed more than happy holing up in the Library when they weren’t working. “Alright Chief… How’s the new one coming along? Usually you’re needling, teasing or making a bigger arse out of yourself.” Krem began walking back up the stairs towards the next project. 

Bull eyed Krem, “Is him being here a problem?” 

“S’fine Chief… you trust him.”

Bull had heard that line before, but this time he was hesitant to believe it, “He hasn’t… done anything to you has he?” There was sudden worry in his face and a sole grey eye found a meat cleaver sitting on the cutting board.

“Like I’d let him get within arm’s length of me.” Krem rolled his eyes.

“Fair enough.” Bull sighed dropping his hands limply at his side.

“Most he’s done is nod at me. He don’t talk much or he slips off through one of the tunnels.” Krem huffed, “There’s just something… OFF about him.” Why was he here? Why was the Altus allowing himself to fall so far down that he was doing “Soparati” work? It didn’t make sense.

Bull was trying to figure that out himself. He gave Krem a reassuring shake, “I’ll figure it out.” He heard the Chargers long before he saw them, that’s how he liked it. 

“Are you sure about this?” Dorian’s voice drifted down through the halls. “Is the effort worth it for just one door?”

“Don’t get your fancy knickers in a twist. It’ll be FINE. I’ve almost got the formula right.” Rocky laughed. 

“He’s still at it Chief.” Krem winced lowering his head slowly to his chest. “Will it pay to just give him the formula?”

“Not a chance Krem. Besides I was in charge of hitting things- not making the stuff. He’s going to get himself killed.” Bull groaned picking up his pace just in time to watch Rocky light the fuse to the latest batch of “Gaatlock”. Grim and Stitches caught each other’s eye and shuffled behind Dorian as a make shift barrier- just in case. 

The powder sizzled, crackled and then there was nothing. Dalish tilted her head and there was a small puff of fire perhaps enough to singe a bit of boot leather but little more.

“Mmm…” Grim poked Dalish’s arm gently his hand beckoning a few times. The elf grumbled setting a copper into his palm before pouting. 

“Oh quit your gloating Grim!” Rocky snapped tapping a foot impatiently. 

“Mm?” Grim looked around, feigning innocence.

Dorian poked the door a few times with his staff blade as if prodding at it would yield better results. 

“You could have just asked me to break down the door.” Bull sighed trudging along eyeing his crew, then Dorian. Everyone was stiff with their body language, Dorian had forced his body language into something more casual and aloof, it worked until Bull studied Dorian’s eyes. The mage was just as unsure and uneasy as the rest of them. Bull was certain if Bookworm sneezed too loudly Skinner would have a dagger in his ribs. 

“He wanted to show off.” Skinner rolled her eyes, rubbing Dalish’s back soothingly, “And I warned you about betting against Grim.” 

“It was a might lackluster.” Dorian sniffed gladly snapping up the chance to try and ease tensions. 

“Shut it you Dandy.” Rocky huffed, taking out his note pad and scribbling some fresh notes. He grumbled under his breath the whole time. 

“Glad to see you all getting along.” ‘To some extent.’ He thought privately. Bull smiled grabbing the knob. He jiggled it a few times and held his ear close. It was a simple lock from the sounds of it, rusted from age, there was also a faint musty odor and something else he couldn’t discern what, just yet. Bull lurched back and threw his shoulder and body into the door with a hard sound, the wood began to splinter and the lock broke away under the blow he caught himself with two quick hops. Bull frowned when he looked into the room. It didn’t feel right. Like most of the rooms on the upper level, save for the library, there were cave-ins. 

Rocky was beside him, taking a swig from a flask, he offered Bull a nip. Shrugging Bull took a mouthful glaring at the stone. What caused all of this? Was this place under siege? He had asked the locals down the way, but they didn’t seem aware of the place what so ever. He took another swallow of rum as he tried not to over think. But still there was an unsettling creeping feeling that coiled in his mind. 

“We got some good stone here Chief.” Rocky said smacking at his pectoral, trying to retrieve his flask. “We can do some good repairs with this patch up the roof, fix up that one wall. Having a mage on board can help with the construction.” 

“I’m not the only mage here you know.” 

“I’m no mage.” Dalish snapped. 

“So you were making stone levitate with….?” 

“It’s an old Dalish trick our bows are very versatile.” Dalish sniffed primly.

Dorian stared forward, there was a joke in there but he couldn’t figure it out and knowing that the Chargers took glee in confusing him- he didn’t dare ask for clarification. 

“Well magic or no we need to get this shit out first before we can repair anything.” Bull said plucking a stone from the pile roughly the same width as the Bull himself and began carrying it out. “We’re putting ‘em by the rest of ‘em right?”

“That’ll do fine, Chief.” Rocky said shifting through the smaller bits shoveling bits into pails as Grim and Stitches brought them in.

Dorian’s gaze was fixed on Bull, watching thick fingers dig into the textured rock, the veins in his arms standing out and his muscles bulging as he carried it down the stairs. His back muscles locked, with his skin tone the Qunari looked like a living statue hauling around stone for a sculptor for its creator. Dorian shook himself grabbing a few of the buckets that were off to the side. He carried those out himself there was no need to waste magic carrying buckets around. He’d save it for levitating more stubborn rocks with Dalish. Krem made comments at him, Dorian just smiled pleasantly at the Soporati, whatever he uttered- he’d have to do better than that to get under the mage’s skin. 

Dorian did his best to avoid distraction, it didn’t work, Bull would always be somewhere in his methodical process of lifting or carrying boulders out. It was made worse by the fact the beast was SWEATING, his skin and muscles were highlighted in the sheen and it did nothing but fan flames he’d rather not admit were being stoked. 

It was well past nightfall when Dorian fell into bed, his lower back and his shoulders were killing him. He rolled from his belly to his back, the heels of his hands digging into his eyes. The Iron Bull was a savage powerful beast of a man and should not be able to lift stone as if he was carrying a loaf of bread around. He smelled… Hyper masculine, like an arena warrior out in the sun whenever Dorian happened to pass by. He shouldn’t like the smell but Void he did.

**\---- NSFW WARNING---**

Dorian huffed out a soft breath setting his arms over his head. His staring at his ceiling as he reflected on the blank stare Bull had while he worked, then that bead of sweat that ran down from the back of his neck over his shoulder blade and straight down his spine until it disappeared at the waist of his pants. 

‘Get it out of your system.’ Dorian thought, his chest heaving, hands lowering to the pull string of his linen sleep pants. His feet adjusted on the edge of his ‘nest’. His hips raised long enough to get the cloth down at his knees.

There was a groaning sound that made Dorian freeze where he was, upon straining his ears he realized it was the worn fortress settling into its foundation. He exhaled, kicking his legs until his hips and legs were completely bare. A quick stretch and he had a bottle of oil in his palm. He coated the mild solution over his cock and sighed, eyes falling as he indulged himself. He traced his fingers over the veins and ridges of his cock cooing happily as his nerves began to light up. He continued the lazy pace shifting his legs apart as he wracked his brain for a particular fantasy to indulge. He knew preciously little about The Iron Bull, he was an enigma. Dorian gave himself a light stroke to keep his libido interested. This wasn’t about an analysis of character this was merely getting the brute out of his system.

Dorian rose one arm above his head and his eyes fell shut, adjusting his grip on his cock he stroked himself harder. Bull would probably throw him to the bed, grab his hair and pull him into place. Dorian hissed through his teeth his free hand lowering from its perch on the pillow to anchor into his hair. He gave a small yank to his thick locks just hard enough to make his dick twitch in his hands. 

All the while he tried to imagine what it would be like to be pinned by the massive Qunari, how overwhelmed he might feel, and how the scars would feel under his palms if he was allowed to touch. Dorian kept his stroke firm when he rolled over onto his stomach the images behind his eyelids pointing to a less intimate position and towards something more primal. He sighed deeply into the pillows as is knees spread wide giving a good view of his puckered entrance for a phantom in his head. He paused, opened his eyes and grabbed the oil again he needed more. He needed to feel, something more than just the faint whispers of sensations his mind was providing. He slicked the ring of muscle and began teasing himself open. Just because he wanted pain and to feel overwhelmed he sure as the Void wasn’t going to rip himself open for a quick self-indulgent romp. There was plenty of seedy propaganda and ‘first hand accounts’ to Qunari anatomy. All of which Dorian lapped up between sips of brandy. He wanted to know, and the image of something imposing, thickly veined and looking like living metal entered his mind. 

It suited the Bull as far as he was concerned and proceeded to work himself open with deft fingers, Dorian shuddered and the fantasy resumed- Bull’s fingers working him open, two of his fingers alone would be longer and thicker than what he had taken in previous in counters. The Iron Bull’s hands… were a work of fucking art. Dorian pinched a bit of blanket between his teeth and he hissed. The hand at his cock sweeping over his head spreading precome over his fingers, he permitted himself a soft groan as he sank two fingers as deep as they would go just to try and simulate the burn he’d no doubt feel with just one. 

The Iron Bull wouldn’t take him, not tonight, he was much too large. He might let Dorian taste him if he behaved, kept his pretty mouth shut. Oh, Dorian wanted to taste that cock. He bit down harder on the blanket thrusting his fingers harder. He couldn’t stop not now, not when the burn was just right his fingers almost deep enough and his cock sending lightening along his nerves. It was almost enough, he pressed back against his hand a sweat breaking out over his forehead and shoulders. A few more firm strokes and Dorian’s spine bowed as he spilled over his fingers, staining his found blanket. He grunted softly from the shocks. He collapsed a moment later and rolled onto his back away from the wet spot, he cleaned his hands on the blanket before putting one wrist over his eyes. 

“There… that should.” He forced himself to lie, “That should take care of that.” 

**\------ SFW Below this Point----**

Krem had accepted the fact the Altus was going to be hanging around for a little while. That was normal, there was a small collection of ‘Pay Pouches of Chargers Past’, those that couldn’t handle the Chief, those that just disappeared, and one that died during a mission. All of their reasons for leaving stitched into the simple linen cloth with red thread. Krem hung on to them- Chief was too tender-hearted at times for such things, even if he pointedly denied it. 

He worked on a an open Book for Dorian- though Krem was more than tempted to just embroider an inch worm onto the fabric. It was almost pay day and Chief had slipped back into the study to do the books. Krem heard him crunching the numbers his quill working furiously over the paper and then there’d be a growl. They’d be taking a job soon. Selling what they had found wouldn’t be enough to cover everyone’s salaries. 

Maybe the Altus would run back home to the Mother-Land? Blade on the end of his staff or not the Altus did not look like he had ever seen combat in his life. Krem’s lip twitched as he shoved the needle in with more force than necessary and into one of his fingers. He eyed the needle that was wedged into the pad of his forefinger and pulled it out. He studied the simple outline on the bag. ‘More than what he deserves.’ And ended his project with the outline completed. 

He knocked on the door minutes later. 

“Come on in Krem.” 

“Got the pay bags, if, you’re ready for ‘em Chief.” 

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Bull said sitting back in his chair, he took his monocle off and set it down. 

“Even did one for the new Guy.”

Bull blinked at him, but there was no reaction outside of “Oh.” There was no surprise in his voice, but there was a small note that he was. The Iron Bull already knew that Krem wasn’t one to trust his fellow countrymen, especially higher up the ladder. 

“Want me to pass them out?” 

“Just tell Bookworm I want to speak with him, I’ll take care of it but yes, feel free with the usual suspects.” 

Krem exhaled, “Thanks Chief.”

Bull nodded filling the bags with equal pay for everyone and a few extra sovereigns for Krem for bothering with a bag for Dorian. 

\--

Dorian looked up from his sorting, freshly cleaned with one of the far windows open airing his freshly washed blanket. His hair was still damp and he had his simple cotton garments on with patches of cream and olive green at his trouser waist. He blinked at Krem, then, stepped down from the step stool he was perched on. 

“The Chief wants to speak with you.” Krem said in a politer tone than usual. 

“Very well.” Dorian nodded curtly, “Thank you. I’ll be heading that way shortly- the study I presume?” 

Krem nodded, turned heel and left. 

That was better than some of their conversations at least. Dorian was lucky that they hadn’t devolved into throwing punches at one another. 

\---

There was another knock on the door. It wasn’t the usual knock Krem did, on soft two hard. It was just three even knocks. “Come in.” It had to be The Vin—Bookworm.

“You wished to speak with me?” Dorian opened the door and slid in closing the door after him. He was in a flashy outfit, belts, one shoulder exposed the cool taupe colour did suit his warm whiskey coloured skin rather well. Bull didn’t mind the flashes playing off the reflective bits of his get up. He was pretty to look at, so no complaints. 

“Sort of.” 

Dorian narrowed his eyes at him, Bull fetched up the small coin purse, “I wanted to give you your pay.”

Grey eyes narrowed all the more. “What do you mean?” 

“You’ve been busting your ass helping us clean up this shit hole and you expect that you’re working for free?” 

There was silence, Dorian’s face alive with shock. “It hadn’t occurred.” 

“You’ve earned your keep and you’re getting money. It’s what happens when you work.” 

“I’m well aware you condescending oaf.” Dorian hissed crossing his arms and jutting his hip. 

“Alright then take your pay.” Bull said jostling the bag once.

“What would I need it for?” Dorian came closer to the desk.

“Do I honestly have to explain currency to you as well?” Bull was just needling him for the sake of seeing his face pinch in that cute little manner. 

“Where would I spend it- let me phrase it like that.” 

“There’s a little village down the way from here you might have passed by it.” 

Dorian shook his head, “I dove in through the first available window- which happened to be the larder.” 

“Mm.” Bull nodded scratching his face, studying Dorian still holding out the bag. He smiled nodded and jostled the back until Dorian sighed taking it. 

“Well thank you. I’ll be getting back to sorting books.” He turned heel and began making his way out of the study.

“Bookworm.” Bull began and watched Dorian shudder at the sound of his nickname he glared over his shoulder at Bull. Too bad it fit too well. “I must insist you get out of here for a bit and enjoy yourself.” 

Dorian eyed the small passage way entrance by Bull’s book case, “But…” his fingers slipped off of the door knob.

“Ferelden’s don’t bite unless provoked. The library is not going to get up and leave if you go out for a while.” Bull rose from his seat and walked towards the mage. “Have you even left the castle since you got here- excluding your escape attempt.” 

Dorian shook his head. 

“You realize you can roam about it’s not like you’re under house arrest.” Bull didn’t expect to see Dorian tense the way he did. “I will throw you out if I have to.” 

Dorian nodded, “Fine, Fine I don’t know what your obsession is I’m perfectly content. But if it will spare me a lecture, I’ll go.” 

Bull sighed watching Dorian slip out of his study. Bull gave him an hour, figuring he’d need it to get his appearance into check before he left. If he left at all, Bull tidied his study and brought out a piece of paper, making another finger puppet of Dorian to add to the little collection on his shelf. Afterwards he went to the library. 

As expected, Dorian was there, lounging with a book in his lap. Bull slid it out of Dorian’s fingers, marked the page before scooping Dorian up putting him over his shoulder. ‘This is the second time I’ve done this.’ The key difference in this time was the fact that Dorian was lucid and cursed and flailed the whole time. No free pats on the ass today unfortunately.

“Go out and have some fun or I will escort you into town.” 

“Is that a proposition? Are you buying me dinner?” Dorian shouted at the top of his lungs now that he had both feet on the ground, his face a bright red. 

Well the idea itself didn’t sound bad, “If you want.” 

Dorian froze his mouth ajar ever so slightly. Bull puckered his lips together in a small pout and tilted his head, “Yes or no Dorian.” 

Inky black locks flew side to side in a sharp ‘no’. “No, No. I’ll just… go into town.” 

“Atta boy.” Bull smiled resisting the urge to pat the mage’s head. He watched Dorian walk down the path, his usual swagger was rushed as he made his way down towards the village. Once he was gone from view he exhaled sharply. “I need to beat something.” He got him all shy again, “Wonder if Grim is still around, he at least tries to win.”

\--

Bull didn’t see hide nor hair of Dorian until two days later at breakfast no less. Just when he thought the mage had scampered off at the first possible break. But there he was, holding himself a little awkwardly like something was hurting his chest. Bull paused from scooping eggs onto his plate to study Dorian. He shifted his stance trying to resume his normal posture, but he would shudder and hunch over. 

Another scoop of eggs and some of that thick cut bacon Krem managed to haggle a deal for. He glanced at Dorian’s chest, whatever it was the mage went without the usual adornments, settling for a simple cotton shirt- Oh… 

Oh well damn. Bull could make out two gold hoops just barely distinguishable through the fabric right at his nipples. Teeth found Bull’s inner cheek so he could control his face better. Dorian had sensitive nipples and he got them pierced when he went into town? There was an image, Dorian all hot and bothered in his closet of a room while his piercings were still raw and aching. Bull turned away from his company, knowing he was only a few mental images away from making his loose fitting pants tent. Bull swallowed his eye sliding shut trying to block the images, but they were so damn good, and so damn sweet. He sat down with some force watching Dorian politely wait for a chance to get some honey for his toast. 

“Krem are you making tea?” Dorian asked looking over to his immediate right. 

“Yes.” Krem paused with his small metal steeper looking at Dorian. 

“Would you mind if I had some? I’ll be happy to reimburse.” Dorian offered already starting to dive into his pants pocket.

“Not necessary.” Krem shook his head bringing down the tin of tea again. Dorian’s face contorted with relief at the sight of it his shoulders sagging then he tensed again. 

“Shall we pool together for the next batch, then?” Dorian asked looking hopeful. Bull studied the two hoping there was some sort of mutual ground. He was tired of pulling them out of arguments. 

“Sure.” Krem looked a little shocked, but anything to indulge his tea-drinking fancy. Allowing tensions to ease so he could afford to sample more teas? Very well.

Dorian smiled, The Iron Bull felt something in his rib cage flutter. Son of a bitch- he hated when he was right about the pretty ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you for reading, and thank you for your patience.


	10. Shock to the System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull has a fear confirmed.  
> Please read the Warnings on the notes at the top.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings for this Chapter:** Blood, skeletal fragments, heavily implied death of a child.
> 
> Also usual disclaimer of no beta.

Bull hated this room... fuck he hated it. He didn't know why, just this _feeling_ of something wrong. But they were almost done cleaning up, so, too Void with the feeling. Bull spared a glance at Dorian when he got to the main pile of rocks in the room. Bookworm seemed to take to rubbing his thumb against his forefinger as a nervous tick, well, if the mage felt something perhaps the unease was founded.

The usually raucous and merry chatter of the Chargers settled the Bull’s nerves. Not today it seemed, if anything it irked him. Ah, hell whatever was under this pile of rocks couldn’t be that bad could it? He could hear some teasing some of the backhanded encouragements but none of it registered as he worked. 

It was another whole hour before anything earth shattering happened. The unease dispelled and moods normalized. Bull dodged Skinner, Dalish and Bookworm while they ran smaller piles out rushing down the hall like a bunch of sparrows. Bull couldn't help but smile at them. He was midway out the door when he heard something squeak and crackle. It took him a moment to realize it was Krem. 

“Ch- Chief?”

“Yeah Krem?” 

“Looks like.” Krem shifted a few more stones, “Something’s under this pile-- something wooden.” 

“Beams more than likely.” Bull shrugged making ready to continue out of the room. 

“No. Wood beams are never this delicate or ornate.” 

There was something about Krem’s tone. Krem very rarely got choked up, for any reason. Bull found himself lowering the rock his mind racing but he side-tracked himself on purpose:

Rocky and Grim were on wall detail- ‘just need to borrow some height eh, Rocky?’ he had teased. The librarian and the two Hellions were probably already on their way back.

“Chief.” 

He was stalling, he could prioritize he had spent over a decade doing so in Seheron, people died all the time. But some deaths just hang around. Feeding off regret and guilt until it blossoms into something else entirely. The large rock finally touched down on the floor. He said nothing as he stalked towards his Lieutenant frantically shifting rocks. Dorian was there, Bull hadn’t noticed him come back in. Both Krem and Dorian were chattering frantically. Dorian jolted when Bull grabbed a rock and began shifting. 

Bull didn’t like how fast they seemed to be moving in comparison to him. His massive hands gripped a jagged rock and he pulled on it. Dorian and Krem leapt away as the massive stone was gone from the bulk of the pile. With that one piece gone- it seemed as if there was actually very little left to move out. A singular eye began to take in the details. The stone in his hands was spattered with rich dull burgundy that radiated out to a watery pinkish-brown. 

He had seen this before. During one of the bouts in Seheron a tower was brought down as a means to get the upper hand in the skirmish. Cleaning the rubble took months and the bodies underneath it all were indescribable. The first one- Bull's face contorted in a vain attempt to blot the memory.

Slowly Bull found splinters of wood. Carved with care he could even make out some details of Mabari on what he was assuming was a tiny headboard. Bookworm—Dorian was kneeling flicking through the bits and pieces but came up with only a few small delicate pieces of bone. 

Air. 

There was no air in this place. 

Bull dropped the massive stone with a floor shaking explosion. He shouldn’t have done that. But there was no air. His ears were buzzing with a soft trilling noise steady and constant. He stumbled when he got out the door slamming his palms against the wall on the other side of the hall to break his fall. Breathe. There was air here. He had to get Krem and Bookworm, but there was no air. 

“Shit.” Krem said looking between the wrecked cradle and then the Chief’s sweating back as he sucked in shaking breaths. 

“Does that happen often?” Dorian twisted his body around his knees pinched on the gravel he knelt in.

“No. Not at all, but the smaller they are the worse it is. Usually he can wait until he’s by himself before the attack happens.” Krem stared after The Iron Bull as he fought to get himself under control.

Dorian stood up going out the door watching his step, easing towards Bull’s good side while he was still in the room.

“Altus don’t. He needs space.” 

Dorian didn’t heed him. Krem could almost say it was good knowing him, if the Mage was lucky- he would just be thrown aside and halfway down the hall. Honestly if Dorian could snap Chief out of it, Krem would just **give** him his own canister of tea and he’d consider respect as well. 

He eased around Bull’s good side “The Iron Bull?” his voice firm hopefully casting a rope for the Qunari.

“Hey Bookworm.” Dorian bit on his inner cheek to keep from grimacing. He responded at least. 

“Why don’t you sit down for a bit?” Dorian nodded towards the floor.

“M’fine. Just a nasty jolt is all once I get some air I’ll be right as rain it’s a touch musty in there.”

“No. No you’re not “fine”.” Dorian chided. “I need you to focus on something else besides the wall.” 

Bull turned his face more towards Dorian, his lips pressed into a confused line. What was he going on about? But Dorian was nodding in approval so that was good and he flashed him a brilliant toothy smile. Bull liked his smile. 

“Well I suppose I can do just as well.” 

“What do you want?” Bull huffed, but seemed thankful for the distraction.

“To calm you down.” Dorian supplied briskly. “Not unless you want to stare at the wall and hyperventilate.” 

Honestly, no, his usual coping mechanism didn’t work, get air and keep away from everyone until he settle down and got himself back from madness. 

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Dorian offered. 

“Stay here.” Bull found himself saying, the mage bobbed his head. 

“At least sit down you lummox you look ready to drop.” 

“Pushy.” Bull tutted turning around and sliding down the wall his eyes immediately honing in on the stone. 

“The Iron Bull.” Dorian’s voice sliced through the dull ringing noise like a whip.

Bull’s head snapped up again. 

“Right here.” Dorian said pointing to his face. 

Bull smirked, “You’re just trying to have an audience.” 

“Perhaps, but I already know about my devastating looks, even if, I’m woefully under-dressed.” 

Bull laughed. “Bah, you’re always pretty.” 

Dorian spared a quick glance into the room, as his face heated. Krem was cleaning up the shattered remains of the cradle and the shattered skeleton. The poor dear, but his game was to make sure their esteemed leader didn’t go too far down the rabbit hole. He had seen it, not often but he knew the signs. 

Bull’s head listed his horn behind Dorian’s back and his ear pressed to Dorian’s side. Dorian for lack of a better place- put his hand on the top of Bull’s head, which earned a pleased rumble. 

“Bookworm.” Bull’s voice and tone was less panicked and more even now.

“Yes, The Iron Bull?” 

“Nothing, just like hearing you say my name.” 

Dorian crinkled his nose and frowned rapping his knuckles on the dense horn close to Bull’s scalp. “Savage.” 

Bull was laughing “Don’t take it too seriously Bookie.” 

Dorian huffed, “Very well.” If this was what Bull needed to ground himself- so be it. He’d willingly take the hit. Dorian knew the Chargers probably didn’t like seeing the Bull like this. Krem looked like a frightened child when Bull ran out of the room. 

Krem came and went finishing off everything save for the last massive rock. By that time Bull was stretching and on his feet. He slapped Dorian on the back and smiled at him. “Thanks for that.” He huffed and began wrestling the stone gingerly out of the room and down the hall, down the stairs and out. 

There was a dramatic cough, and Bull shook his head affectionately.

“You should have been an actor Bookworm.” Krem teased passing him a full dust pail. Dorian took it. The two walked in compatible silence lagging behind while Bull wrestled his burden gingerly out of the stronghold. 

“Is he alright?”

“As much as anyone is, glad Dalish didn’t see any of the bits n bobs, she’s a bit of a crier. I'll go back and make sure the tot has a proper resting place.” Krem shrugged, “Chief will probably need to hit something. It's how he deals with his moments of weakness. We’re probably going to head off and do a job somewhere.” 

Dorian hummed wondering if he could possible sneak out of that sort of thing, he had no plans on actually being a mercenary.

“Hopefully it’s something interesting. Fighting Giants gets dull after a while.” Krem said keeping the topics of conversation moving forward.

Son of a bitch, now he was curious. “Go on.”

 

\--

 

Sure enough then next time Krem saw Bull, he was setting out some of his preferred weapons, a few whet stones, and a massive stack of requests were set on his desk in a sizable listing pile. His monocle pinched delicately between two massive fingers.

“What will it be Chief? Everyone’s turned in for the night.” Krem made no mention of his 'after dinner task'. Chief didn't need to know, the boys didn't need to know. Dorian knew, helped him even. 

“Ah usual number if you don’t mind Krem.” 

“Not at all Chief, anything else?”

“The usual request.” 

“Learn to relax.” Krem nodded slipping out the door, it latched shut.

Not a breath later the passageway door opened. Dorian was there as always silver eyes peering at him blinking as he adjusted to the brighter light of the grand study.

“Come on in. What are you doing up at this late hour?” 

“Just confirming your looking for some extra work is all.” Dorian shrugged, “Krem said you’d be itching to hit some things.”

“Our meager savings won’t last forever.” Bull said, “That and I don’t want the boys getting to complacent, it’s a death sentence.”

“Are you… alright?” Dorian asked as he eased himself into the room. 

“I’m doing just fine.” Bull set his monocle down so he could give Dorian his attention. 

Dorian seemed to be trying to phrase his question around the logic he imposed. “Alright I didn’t know if you needed to talk about it, get it off your chest and out in the open.” 

“I just need to hit something. I’m good at hitting things.” 

Dorian rolled his eyes his hip leaning on the desk. “You shouldn’t bottle your emotions.” 

“What is there to bottle? What’s happened has happened and I had a bit of weakness- it’s been known to happen, ain’t no shame in it.” 

“Very well be stubborn.” Dorian pushed off the desk with a ringed fingers. 

“Dorian.” 

“Bookworm, Dorian make up your-”

Bull had a hand on Dorian’s cheek, fingers slid to the back of his neck. The touch was a surprise, that had Dorian rooted to the tiled floor. Long fingers didn't curl around the base of his neck nor grip his hair. Dorian could push away and leave should he desire. But he'd say curiosity kept him rooted in place. Bull pressed their foreheads together then he adjusted his head, still giving the mage an out before kissing him. What was curious to Dorian was the fact that there seemed to be no expectation in the gesture. His eyes closed and his hand came up to rest on Bull’s harness, the leather creaking under his fingers as Dorian braced his weight. 

Bull smiled lopsidedly into the simple lip press, pulled back, "Thanks for snapping me out of it." his lips lowered back into place, nipping at Dorian’s lower lip. Dorian opened his mouth and Bull eased back, he wasn't sure how to read all of Dorian's signals yet. This was the boldest he dared for the moment, Dorian didn't seem to mind. Perhaps getting the mage to admit to his little crush would be easier than-

Krem opened the door and Dorian shoved himself back twisting violently out of Bull’s loose grip, like a startled deer he fled to the stair case. Krem clattered the serving platter, seemed as if his lieutenant had decided to spend the night with him going over possible jobs with him. 

“Krem!” Bull smiled pushing back the disappointment, “Pull up a seat, you just missed Bookworm.” 

“Sure thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support for the last Author's Note I posted. Things seemed to have evened out and my grandmother is responding well to her medications- at least we feel like she's going to make it to one more Family Dinner for the Holidays.


	11. Hunter's Moor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-edited upload. There was too many revisions at the tail end. My apologies. 
> 
> Original Summary: "Bull takes a job to see if Dorian has what it takes"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for deleting this chapter and re-uploading it. I disliked the ending too much and it changed to radically. As usual expect sudden changes. But this should be the last re-upload. 
> 
> Once again thank you for your patience and for reading. Happy [Belated] Holidays and New Year.

It was early in the day when a carrier bird flew through one of the open windows. It zipped through the room before looping back settling on Bull’s left horn. Dorian started at the sight, it must be convenient to have a built in bird perch. Bull reached up with one thick finger gingerly rubbing the plush down of the bird’s belly making the delicate creature trill. Honestly, any more of this he’d start thinking The Iron Bull was a Princess turned Qunari. Perhaps he should start looking into missing Royalty? If the “blood thirsty savage” could carry high notes--Dorian would probably die laughing. A princess (or better yet a prince!) turned into a Qunari and needed true love’s first kiss… Kiss… 

That kiss between he and the Bull threw him off. It was unexpected, and, sublime. Dorian gave the corner of his mouth a light stroke with his fingers before setting his hands down. Bull never brought it up again, Dorian never questioned it. He crossed his ankles under the table and leaned back staring at his two thick slices of toast. 

Krem came up next to him kicking a chair out for himself and sat down, “I got a bone to pick.” 

“Oh?” Dorian looked to Krem with a regal eyebrow arched, he pouted for extra affect, “I thought we were friends as fellow countrymen bonding over Soparati food.” He plucked the small clay jar out of Krem’s hand and smiled at the simple item.

Without missing a beat Krem continued, "So tell me Altus. How did you get the Chief out of his head?"

Dorian looked up from the citrus peel jam he had been spreading on his toast. He considered Krem for a moment, taking a bite of his minimalistic breakfast. He swallowed and shrugged, "I've a friend who has... similar but vastly different symptoms. He tends to come down easier when he's got a nice distraction- What better than my melodious voice?"

"Preen, preen. Give it back." Krem snatched the jar away, “So you just did the first thing that came to mind and you lived to tell the tale.” He gestured with his hand something similar to a person being arched through the air, “Usually it’s bruised ribs at best. There’s something about you he trusts, clearly.”

Dorian avoided Krem’s eyes for a moment, what should he say to that?

“Either that it’s that whole pretty boy thing you’ve got going on. He’s got a weakness ya see. You should see him walk past a China shop.” 

“The Iron Bull in a China sh-”

“NO.” 

“It was a question.” 

“The answer is still NO.” Krem put his face in his hands and scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. He was grumbling under his breath and Dorian couldn’t hear anything outside of the Chargers clattering about. 

Dorian made a move to grab the jar again, only to have his hand slapped away. Krem glaring at him over his fingers all of a sudden, “No.”

“I hear you loud and clear O’ Lieutenant of the Chargers.” Dorian placed a hand over his heart and bowed his head. 

“Smart-ass.” The venom in his voice was lost in his chuckle. 

Bull looked up sharply throwing his head back and almost unseating the roosting carrier bird. "It looks like we got a job, boys- Over in Hunter’s Moor! Bookworm- you in?"

"At least tell us what we're doing!" Rocky called. 

"Cleaning detail,” Bull began “Got a few smugglers freaking out the locals."

"Sounds boring." Skinner blew a raspberry afterwards.

"They're riding giant spiders." Bull gave in a sing-song voice. 

"That's more like it." Krem grinned downing his tea in one gulp.

Dorian stared at the group of mercenaries one by one. Stitches, was already making plans on extracting venom and teeth for his various treatments. Rocky was offering to just blow the encampment up at a distance, please Chief just this one time. Dalish and Skinner were eyeing each other their eyebrows wiggling in various interesting patterns. Grim made a face then nodded slowly. 

"Bookworm, are you in?” Bull settled his arms against his sides. 

"Sounds absolutely insane, this whole thing is reeking of wrong... I'm in." He had to see these giant spiders for himself, he had heard about cave dwelling spiders growing to massive sizes. 

“Great! Eat big boys we’re heading out.” 

“Chargers Horns up!” Krem called. 

“That’s my phrase, Krem.” 

“Let me live a little, Chief.” Krem said dipping his knife into the jam jar. 

Bull grunted, “First my catch phrase and now you’re showing off the citrus jam.” 

“You’re getting soft Chief- just like your tits there’s another jar- it’s about your eye level. Strawberry rose. How you stomach that shit is beyond me.” Krem grumbled. 

Bull smirked, ruffling Krem’s hair, “Awww you love me.” 

“Shut it Chief.” 

Everyone had eaten their breakfast, and rushed off like children at a Feast Day celebration to get ready to hit the road. Bull settling down in his own spot with his own massive breakfast, which looked like everything not eaten to Dorian’s eyes. He supposed they would be waiting for Bull before setting off on the road. 

That wasn’t the case: Bull was there casually waiting, looking bored no less! His arms crossed and his fingers drumming on a thick bicep. Krem was there checking over ration packs, Dorian barely dodged the man as he took off like a hummingbird gone off to Maker-Knows-Where. Dorian pinched his lips together, he had to know how The Iron Bull pulled off a stunt like that. He made his way to Bull, his steps unnecessarily cautious. 

Bull gave him a cursory glance then nodded. 

“How do you…” Dorian began.

“Hmm?”

“Nevermind.” He shouldn’t pry, but how did Bull pull this off?

Bull shrugged and waited for Rocky to show up, the drumming becoming firmer in pitch. “Grim make sure he’s not packing that ridiculous log.”

“Ah.” Grim trotted back into the fortress, Dorian was for a moment reminded of a faithful hunting hound.

“How did you eat all of that and still get ready?” Dorian blurted turning his attention back to Bull sparing a quick glance to his stomach. 

“I just have an axe and a jar of Vitaar; rations are shoved into side pouches. Krem insists on packing extra for emergencies.” 

“I’m still not sure how you managed to pull this off. I know I didn’t spend that much time packing.” What was there to pack? A staff, then he had to shimmy into his heavy leather travel robes. 

“Either you eat your fill or you don’t eat.” 

“I thought everyone got equal portions under the Qun.” 

“This is true to a degree, but in field with stretched thin supply lines, you eat what you can when you can.” 

Dorian nodded, noting the clipped tones in Bull’s voice. He didn’t want to talk about it, fair enough. He had asked his peace. Bull looked to the mage with the bladed staff strapped to his back, he could admire Dorian and that damn kiss proved to be more of an awkward clunky roadblock he hadn’t intended on. The signals Bull read were wrong, or was there something else he hadn’t accounted for in his maneuver? The only thing that Bull could do to get his answers was waiting for time alone with his elusive Altus Mage. At least on the road, Dorian didn’t have the option to disappear up a rabbit’s warren of staircases.

\---

It was well into the march towards Hunter’s Moor when Bull discovered a fair few things about their newest Charger:

Dorian was better at this whole "forced march" thing. Sure, his biggest complaint was being cold and wanting bookshelves everywhere. Bull hoped the last part was a joke, but that was beside the point. Dorian certainly was unafraid to get himself dirty. He had waded through knee deep mud patches where the rain has soaked the road. Bull noticed that he didn't say something was beneath him like most noble brats would he put his head down, grumbled and got what needed to be done, done. Which would keep him alive longer all things considered, Skinner hated whiners. Dorian went ahead of the group at one point next to Grim and helped slice down thick foliage that had grown wild in the denser parts of their route, using his blade with a lethal grace that Bull could admire.

Bull eased himself along Dorian's side, pushing a willow branch away from the two of them before Dorian could think to start his swing. 

"Bookworm."

"I can't tell which one is worse: The Bookworm nickname or Mae calling me a ‘Hot-house orchid’." Dorian said louder than he meant. 

"Hot House Orchid works better." Krem called from up the road. "He’s been complaining about being cold since we’ve past town! Chief you've been ousted for nickname naming!"

“No I haven’t!” Bull shouted back.

Krem merely laughed shaking his head, “It’s a better nickname admit it!” 

“It’s BOOKWORM!” Bull pouted he shook his head smiling, looking towards Dorian, lowering his voice, “Before this turns into some weird awkward shit let me apologize.” 

Dorian stopped walking and looked up to him, “Whatever for?” 

“Need a reminder?” Bull asked, since he was more than willing to actually give Dorian a better sample. His arm went around Dorian’s back, his fingertips barely grazed Dorian’s hip when Bookworm started a full bore march. 

“No, no I don’t need one.” He rushed.

“Then at least let me know if we can work together, I don’t need you getting all weird with me ‘cause I fucked up.” 

“It won’t be an issue, though I don’t see why you’re apologizing.” 

“Clearly, I gave you something you didn’t want.” 

Dorian stared at him, “I don’t follow.” 

“I’m not one for forcing anything on anyone. I thought you were interested in the Bull here.” He flexed an arm and watched a wash of pink appear on Dorian’s honey skin. Bull didn’t know what he liked more- Dorian scrambling for excuses or being tempted to climb him like a tree.

“If it helps you sleep at night.” Dorian snorted. 

“This isn’t for me Dorian.” Bull said softly, “I’m making sure you’re comfortable, you’re on the team. Sure we’ll give you hard time but that’s par for the course.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable!” Dorian snapped suddenly. “No need to treat me like a fragile ornament.” He jabbed a finger into the middle of Bull’s chest, Dorian opened his mouth. Then jabbed him a few times, to the Bull, it looked like he was trying to figure out how to properly phrase his statement but his brain was moving too fast to catch the words. 

“Take your time.” Bull said. 

“Just keep your head on, whatever happened to you, won’t happen again. You won’t talk about it, fine but just know.” Dorian worked his jaw. 

Bull pinched his lips together in a confused pout, the next few words Dorian spoke had him reeling: “I’ll protect you.” 

“From?” he studied silver eyes unsure if he should laugh and slap Dorian’s back or say ‘thank you’. 

“Forget it… it was a stupid thing to say. The Great Lummox you are,” the mage shot him a glare, “Probably would laugh it off anyway, problems? No. Everything is perfectly fine here.”

Bull hummed watching Dorian march up the hill, he sighed, the bluster, was throwing Bull off his ability to gauge the mage. That had to be it. Bull smirked- it would have been funny to know if Dorian would punch him if he pretended to swoon a little. It couldn’t be healthy being that serious, but Bull had to admit to how sweet the gesture was to him, no one would think to even offer him protection. Not that he honestly needed. He could handle himself, thank you, he had been for years. 

It was a few more days march of unremarkable travel. Though Dalish was doing everything in her power to make Grim crack a grin, Skinner got in on the act next. The bets were placed that Grim might actually do more than grunt and shake his head by the end of day three.

“Grim~” The hellions began, “Grim~” they sang in a flirty tone.

“Mmm?” Grim paused looking innocent and curious.

“We saw a bird.” 

“Ugh.” The warrior’s lips pinched into a flat line.

\---

 

Hunter’s Moor had its fame in its prized wild game and vegetable harvest, Royalty from across Thedas scrambled to have the prized mushrooms and boar that was a princely export. Bull, upon arrival didn’t expect to see huts wedged together almost stacked on top of each other behind a high defensive wooden fence made from hastily cut trees and spiked outwards away from the main village. There was a few of the residents of the Moor peering over the fence across the way into a valley. Bull wove to them, but he received no acknowledgement, the figures merely retreated into the huts. 

“Hope they’re getting the person in charge.” Dalish huffed. 

Bull nodded thoughtfully, scanning the shallow tree dappled valley, large chunks of earth had been moved in a way slashed, blood splattered the foliage in various stages of drying, “Looks like they’ve been trying to fight the smugglers themselves.” Bull squinted making out several gaping maws of cave entrances well over a dozen from the looks of it. There, he could see what looked to be webs, and cocoons sticking to various corners. Bull crinkled his nose when he saw one of them twitch. 

“The Iron Bull and Bull’s Chargers?” 

“Aye.” Bull’s attention snapped away from the caves he looked down towards a woman in a sling, her face bandaged and bruised from what he could see of her eyes they were a sharp hazel colour and her mouth was fighting to keep neutral despite the pain tugging at her lips. 

The woman sighed, her shoulders slumping; she leaned on her hunting bow that she used as a makeshift crutch. “Excellent. I am the matron of this community. Everything you need is at your disposal. Have you questions?”

“What’s with the webs?” 

“Those are our captured family and fellow hunters.” She sighed, “The smugglers come every night trying to break us down so we will up and leave them to rape this forest and everything in it. Morale is dangerously low, and there have been a few that have gone on suicide missions to free their loved ones that have been taken. The latest attempt to keep them at bay and my people safe resulted in…” she gestured to the wall, “Whatever that is. We had been able to fend them off but their…” she paused to steady herself once more, “Their numbers seemed to have increased without our notice despite having scouts monitoring the woods night after night.”

“Ma’am are you in need of a healer?” Stitches asked.

The matron held up her hand, “You’re too kind but we’ll worry about that later. My face was damaged in the first assault we launched usually I am confined to bed rest. Luckily the bastard arachnid didn’t blind me, though I’d probably still be able to hit my mark.” She stamped her bow on the ground glaring at the pits.

“Are those caves deep?” 

“Very, Enough to house two to five of those monstrosities and their riders, we will help you fight we’ve lost to many and to keep our operation and our home we’ve set our pride aside and called in your Company.” 

“How many can fight?” 

Her eyes closed, “Ten able bodied, and possibly seven still able to fight. A mere fraction of what we were. Your company is welcome to whatever previsions we have. Your pay will be in sovereigns that we have set aside.” 

Bull bowed his head in understanding offering to shake the woman’s hand, she took his hand in an almost death grip a few short shakes and that was that. 

“If you will excuse me, I need to rest for a moment.”

“Are you sure you are able to fight?” 

“The Iron Bull- I was born fighting I will die the same way.” She ambled her way down the hill. 

“Stitches go with her, patch her up don’t get an arrow to the face you’re no good to me.” 

“Aye Chief.” Stitches broke away from the group following the woman. 

“I like her.” Skinner smiled looking to Dalish who was nodding enthusiastically. 

“Chief…” 

“Yeah, Rocky?”

“Why, do you always pick the places that look like absolute shit holes to save?” Rocky crinkled his nose at the compressed huts. 

“They’ve got better character.” 

“Still looks like a shit hole.” 

“Everywhere looks like a shit hole to you.” Skinner snorted. 

“Mmm.” Grim agreed.

“Is it always like this?” Dorian asked in a low voice. 

“Nah. He’s just cranky he’s not allowed to over-do the explosives and there aren’t walls that need to be taken down.” Krem shrugged, “Come on let’s see if you’re any good at pitching tents.” 

“Can’t say I know, didn’t bring one when I left Tevinter.”

“Kind of a fool move don’t you think?” Stitches asked. 

“When you’re fleeing Tevinter the last thing you do is go on a shopping trip.” Krem interjected, “You take whatever you can carry and hope there aren’t any fireballs trying to climb up your ass as you leave.” 

Dorian bowed to Krem, “Spoken like an artist.” 

“Shut up Orchid, the sooner we get the tents up the sooner we can eat. Skinner see what they can offer Dalish help her out.” 

“If we’re unlucky we’ll lose ‘em.” Bull huffed.

“Nah your two hellions will come back singing this place’s praises and then snuggle up to Papa Bull.” Krem smirked. 

“Qunari-”

“Don’t have families. The more you say it the more I think you’re just parroting what you were told.” Krem sighed. 

Dorian watched Bull’s face, especially his sole green eye dart about in confusion. Bull found Dorian for a moment, who, nodded and went back to trying to figure out this whole ‘tent’ business. Dorian bit his lip reflecting on Krem’s words himself.

Over the next few hours the community was a hive of activity. Villagers came out of the wood work preparing for an assault. Skinner, Dalish and Stitches came back loaded down with hearty bread with various seeds and grains peppering the top, and what looked like a whole smoked boar. 

“We might as well stop for food. Orchid you’re shit at making tents.” 

Dorian jutted his lower lip pouting, Bull patted his shoulder in a kindly manner, “Hey it takes practice don’t beat yourself up.” 

“I wasn’t.” 

“Stop lying.” 

Dorian stared at Bull, “But.” he felt a calloused finger press up to his lips. He fought the urge to lick it. 

“Come on we’ll fix it after we eat.” 

Dorian exhaled slowly when Bull’s hand retreated, and waited patiently for his ration he licked his upper lip blinking a few times. 

Bull sat down listening to the buzz coming from the village. As time passed the buzz grew to a muffled argument, which erupted all of a sudden into a screaming match. 

Dorian found his eyes darting to the cave mouths wondering if that would get the invading tenants to add to the mayhem.

“Why do we have to have them here? We’ve been doing fine on our own.” 

“We’ve been doing a good job at dying, and shush!” 

“Don’t you dare shush me! We can get them back ourselves.” The teen shrieked, “My father is in there and who’s to say these bastards aren’t going to make things worse!” 

“For the love of… Get your ass back inside. The stress is getting to you! You’re so much more level headed than this!” 

The mercenaries all stopped what they were doing. Grim and Skinner exchanged a tense look before looking back. Dorian kept looking to the caves: it was too still, too fucking still. A sharp clap was heard. 

Bull stood up then, “Don’t do it get her back… get her back.” He whispered. 

The elf was wrestling with the teen, screaming and kicking the whole time. He managed to get her inside. Presuming it was over everyone sat back down and resumed their meal. The villagers had shrugged it off some murmuring in favour of the girl’s outburst. 

The peace didn’t last long; she was back out with her bow, and quiver. The elf was hot on her heels trying to calm the huntress. She slipped through his grasp and then vaulted over the wall before anyone could snatch her back. The elf was next over the wall. 

Dorian stood up, dumping his meal on the ground. He managed to catch the next detail- the human teen and Dalish elf were vaulting across the terrain kicking up small clumps of grass as they went. Dorian inhaled sharply, holding his breath. Bull stood at the apex of the hill they perched on, watching with his mouth agape. “Shit.” 

“SHIT!” The mercenaries jolted, unprepared to see one, large hairy looking spider exploded out one of the caves. It was slung low to the ground as it skittered towards the villagers- now veering back and slipping over their own feet. The rider shifted on the arachnid’s back raising a trident and a net from the one side of the saddle. The rider wore something similar to the spider’s natural texture- a wooly black and brown cloak that covered them from head to toe.

“Chief… we need to do something.” 

“Shit. Grab your weapons we’re going in- Balls to the walls boys.” Bull grabbed his axe as Dalish and Dorian began peppering the sky with ice and fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again. And special thank you to [KimpatsuNoHoseki](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KimpatsuNoHoseki) for helping me identify why I was disliking this chapter so much.


	12. Not in the Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It goes well until it doesn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your comments on the previous "Chapter 12"/ Author's update. I'm slowly getting better and I've the drive to continue on (to a degree life is hectic and my brain chemistry hates me). I've taken the liberty of printing out some of your comments (they've helped motivate me to pick myself up). In other news- I'm helping renovate the house I live (on top of everything else) in so I'm still extremely scattershot. Also this isn't my best editing job whatsoever but I can't stand that I'm making anyone wait on my behalf anymore. On that note there will more than likely be revisions (minor or massive) when I get a chance to come back and study this chapter in depth. But for now- Forward Ho!

There was nothing like running into battle- the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the comfortable weight of his weapon. He looked over his shoulder briefly to see villagers swarming over the first of the riders. Bull turned his head back and smiled at the spider skittering towards him. Bull began his swing, the satisfying sound of and exoskeleton shattering made him laugh. Magic whistled by his ear in narrow misses, if he wasn't used to Dalish with her own not-spells he’d have a few choice words for the Vint- which entailed a lot of waving his axe and threatening to shave off Dorian’s mustache. Bull twisted himself, taking three of the eight legs of the next spider charging him. 

He grunted, pouted and considered it wouldn’t do him much good- he was rather fond of the mage’s ornate facial hair. He silenced his thoughts, savoring the battle. He took in the villagers swarming around; he caught flashes of greying or white hair charging in with the youngsters. What he hadn’t expected to see was Dorian throwing himself bodily into the fray. The mage twisted himself like a snake around a few dismounted interlopers. So the blade at the end of his staff wasn’t just for show? Bull would make a mercenary out of the pretty-boy yet.

Dorian twisted himself practically dancing around the field; he flashed a grin while he narrowly dodged blades flying towards his head and body. He brought his staff up catching the blade under the ribs of one twisted and threw a few fire balls behind him for safe measure. He noticed Stitches zipping around like a bee, with a quick flick of his wrist; Dorian sent the wayward fire missiles towards the healer setting a spider on fire once it got too close.

“Good one!” Stitches called checking over his shoulder at the sudden heat. 

Dorian saluted him before running off to take his chances with fate elsewhere. 

He found it a few moments later his staff getting snagged in one of the many thundering legs and whisked out of his hand, the point of his spear catching him on his inner arm. (His staff disappeared after that, though he sensed one of the villagers had “borrowed” it). Dorian grimaced clamping his hand down on the wound, only to be kicked like a ball. Dorian’s eyes widened as grass and sky tumbled along his vision as he spiraled through the air. He had time to think of his life choices leading to this moment but his conclusions on the matter were stilled when he slammed bodily into the ground. He looked up finding a teen boy looking down at him; he was scowling and tossed the staff back. 

“That orb makes a bad club…” 

“It’s not meant for that.” 

“Think about it. Spells only take you so far Mage.” The boy snapped picking up another random weapon and disappearing into the throng. 

Brat! 

Stitches played his role as human shield helping brazen healers drag the injured back to safety, he barked out orders and blocked arrows with a battered shield one going through the reinforced iron and wood shield, the bolt stopped just before it hit his cheek. 

“Come on move it I don’t have all day!” He bellowed smashing the hilt of his sword into the cranium of a lunging smuggler. He let the body fall face first into the sodden ground as he ran to the next begging soul.

Grim’s task was simple: make sure Rocky didn’t do anything “too stupid”, sure Chief, sure. Shouldn’t be a problem, he thought innocently (at first). Rocky was a fast son of a bitch that was for damn sure. One second Grim saw him firing some of his mortars and grenades. By the time he checks again after two or three bodies he’s sliced through not only was Rocky halfway across the field, but, he’s on one of the arachnids. Yipping and shouting like he’s in a rodeo competition all while smiling broadly under his mustache. 

“MMF!” Grim froze long enough to be tackled to the ground; the warrior bucked trying to get the upper hand. The struggle was going on to long both refusing to budge an inch when the spider came barreling over them both snapping up the smuggler fangs making short work of tender flesh. 

Grim was soaked clean through from the arc of blood that splattered towards the ground; he hadn’t noticed at first, he was too busy dodging bristled legs. 

“Oy get up Grim no time for making out. That shit’s for later. Come on this things more fun than you think.” 

“Mmmm…”

“No worries I’ll blow its brains out when we’re done.” 

“Hmmm.” Grim sighed, clambering behind the dwarf. It was easier than trying to keep one eye on the enemy and one eye on Rocky. The two sped off Rocky manically cackling the whole time.

Krem spared a double take his jaw slackening slightly. He shook himself when villagers managed to wrest one of the monsters on to its back, he ran in with his war hammer driving it down with all the strength in his arms his feet kicking off the ground as the hammer broke through the exoskeleton and to the yielding earth below. 

“Mercenary.” 

“Krem.” 

“Krem then, care to help us pull off the legs of that one?” 

“It would be my honour matriarch.” 

“You’ve good manners. Come along.” The small band began running gaily up to the next target right past Dalish and Skinner.

Dalish and Skinner were side by side, as always. Skinner covered Dalish’s back and flanks breaking away long enough to wrap her daggers around neck going deep enough to strike bone, or “persuade” spiders elsewhere. Meanwhile, Dalish shot spires of ice out of the ground. While Dorian fluttered around the battlefield like a crazed sparrow, Dalish took her time following Skinner’s movement’s as if they were leashed together. She poured all of her energy into focusing. Dalish spun suddenly firing several bursts of ice past Skinner while she wrested the head off a smuggler that was being particularly stubborn. 

“You’re getting better at your aim- you didn’t get my scarf this time.” Skinner drawled. 

Dalish merely smiled cheekily at her.

By the top of the hour, the smugglers were kind enough to concede, rider-less arachnids sped off weaving around trees and each other making a beeline towards the mountains. Bull laughed watching a few of the smugglers heading for the hills, chasing after the giant beasts. Some of the Mire-Folk trailing after them still thirsty for a fight, other’s cheered, but most ran towards the webbing and sacks cutting their loved ones free. There was the occasional wail or shout of relief when the imprisoned coughed sucking air into their lungs. 

 

“You did well The Iron Bull- Bull’s Chargers.” The Matriarch smiled. 

“Ah hell we like nothing more than a good fight. KREM! What’s the damage?” 

Krem was looking around, Stitches ran around person to person with the village healers. “Looks like we got a-” 

One of the arachnids shot back out of the depths of the woods and ran directly for Bull, smashing into him. Before Bull had time to react he had realized he was being carried off. His weapon having been dropped in the impact, he fought to get himself free, he wouldn’t dare panic especially when needle like fangs began trying to work their way into his skin. Though Bull would be a fool to deny his heart raced a little. 

Bull was trying to get his arm up into one of the many eyes of the giant arachnid but to no avail, he was jerked violently about, and the fang closer to his leather clad shoulder began to ease its way through the thick padding, the one fang was deep into his chest away from his organs thankfully, though he was fairly certain he would feel the venom being injected otherwise. He felt more annoyed than anything. The bastard thing made him drop his axe! He saw Grim rocket up towards him and a flash of magic as Dorian brought up the rear. 

Seconds later Bull prized himself free, eager to see this battle through to the bitter end he ran past Dorian shouting at him, “You lummox you’re bleeding!” No doubt, but he felt fine, better than fine actually! 

He tackled one of the remaining mounts, using his horns to tip it over to expose the tender underside and he began ripping the creature apart. Bull couldn’t bring himself to stop until he reached soaked grass. 

“Chief you done?” Krem called, hanging farther back, “We’re done here chief, we got one of ‘em for the Matriarch to question. Her husband is off to make a feast for us.” 

“That’s what I like to hear!” Bull said his voice unnaturally high. He stood up, “Krem got any clue where my axe is I lost it…” Why was he falling backwards? 

“Chief? CHIEF!”

Maybe he did get hit with venom after all… He felt his knees hit the ground but the pain in his bad leg didn’t seem to register as his veins lit up in a cold wave of heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for not only reading but the support. If you are curious to see what all I'm up too I'll be posting a few photos shots of the renovations in the coming weeks. I've been writing on Chapter 13 (where I feel like I can safely say I can get back to the story I've wanted to write all along).


	13. He Denies it, but We're Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull is not in the best of shape, and the Chargers don't know how to handle that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long, long time since I've updated. Things are either in one of three categories: busy, worryingly depressed, or 'Building my self up in a vain attempt to gain some semblance of control'. I've come to the conclusion that this story needs to be ended, even though I had other plans for this whole project. It was a fun challenge, but I feel like I should be really focusing on building myself back up. Draw again, make that web comic I've always wanted to do. But I may still write for you lovely readers to blow off steam if something catches my fancy.
> 
> I will also admit this chapter was difficult to write. I'm still haunted from the events of last year, and in parts I'm venting through Dorian.

Dorian and Krem were the first to rush to Bull’s side; Krem was frantic, eyes wide in horror. 

“Help me get him on his back!” The mercenary began wrestling with Bull’s dead weight lifting him by his horns. Dorian dropped to his knees and began trying to shift his massive shoulder. 

‘His skin feels so cold.’ Dorian found himself thinking, he nearly screamed when he felt a hand descend on his shoulder. Skinner stood there, eyes red with tears she blinked back harshly. She got beside him to help lift. 

The matriarch sounded an alarm on a bone whistle, “Bring him to my cabin.” She ordered to her strongest men, “Everyone else team up with a healer- we’ve lost enough souls today we won’t lose anymore.” 

Shifting someone the size of Bull took effort, no stretchers would support his dead weight and no one would risk an oxen drawn cart in the thick mud of the field. Their breathing was laboured and if one faltered, they all faltered. 

Dorian lost his boot in the muck of the battle field. He doggedly pressed onward ignoring the sticky unpleasant mess that got in between his toes. The villagers were kind enough to make the task as easy as possible- laying down planks of wood and shifting bodies and arachnid parts out of their path. 

The sluggish pace the mercenaries had set was quickly starting to speed up. Dorian had enough presence of mind to “scroll” down his repertoire. He knew a levitation spell but his mind refused to allow him access to it. He spared a glance to Dalish, who seemed to be having similar troubles. They locked eyes at one point. Whatever they were looking for in each other was found a heartbeat later.

By the time a spell of some sort of use came to him- Bull was being set down on a bed, which creaked and threatened to give way.

 

It was a haze of activity; the commune was alive like startled bees. People bounced bodily off of one another barely pausing to apologize before zooming off at all compass points. Any healer that could be spared went to Bull’s aid. Dorian, vaguely puzzled by this went and sat out of the way staring at the hive of activity. ‘Amazing.’ He thought, ‘That these people would go out of their way for a Qunari Mercenary…’ 

Well he did help save their home, but usually once the deed was done wasn’t it normal for people to just turn around and say ‘it’s your problem now’? That's how it was normally wasn't it? That aching pit of crying for help but faces staring soullessly back? 

Curiouser and curiouser. 

A settling unease made Dorian’s shoulders fall, ‘You’re being useless again, Pavus.’ What could he do? He was a necromancer, not a Spirit Healer. That fact, at times, burned him down to the marrow of his being. He eyed a rock and tried the levitation spell, only to remember shortly after it shot off in the air and disappeared that THAT, was definitely not the correct spell. He stared after it quietly hoping that it wouldn’t kill anyone on the decent. 

A rotation began once Stitches declared Bull was stable enough “For now”. Each Charger would sit at Bull’s side and would do one of three things- sit in utter dumbfounded silence, or talk and curse at him while he exhaled ragged worrying breaths. The third one was the worst where they just silently cried and slept with their heads tucked by his elbow. Krem had been doing so for the past day and a half. Dorian, feeling out of place didn’t join them when they stared at barely eaten plates of food. Nor, did Dorian join the villagers. He was just the awkward ‘Vint Bastard sitting in the shadows observing everyone. He ignored the empty pit that lingered in the center of his chest and nibbled on a seed laced bread. 

By the middle of the next day Dorian was considering his next moves. He could easily leave, but the mere thought of doing so made bile rise in his throat. So curiously he stayed. Then watched as a very miffed looking Stitches marched into Bull’s tent. Then came out with Krem kicking and struggling, the healer redoubled his grip and gave Krem’s collar a hard yank and the man stilled for a moment.

Licking his lips, Dorian made his move, going to the tent and shakily opening one of the flaps, after a few moments of pondering and even more moments of shaking, Dorian entered, he wasn’t sure if he was cut for this sort of thing, he knew how to deal with a bed ridden Felix but not a Qunari warrior that could probably still break his spine if he took the notion to it. But still his heart hurt, and he blinked back stubborn tears. He begged for his only friend to stay with him, as the world darkened and the only sound he could hear was the gulping groans of the dying. He barely recalled leaving Alexius' side days later and walking, and walking. He got on a boat, drank himself into a stupor and woke up in the arm pit of the world. Now, here he was witnessing the agony of illness and more than likely, death, all over again. Dorian shuddered and clamped down on a sob that threatened to break his resolve.

Bull was still, and had a sickly off colour to his grey skin, on occasion sweat would trail down the tendons on his neck. Dorian left the tent flap slightly open to let in a cool breeze and to let out the sickly astringent smell from the copious medications. 

 

“It’s a fine mess you got yourself into, you oaf.” Dorian snapped. He waited for a smirk or a wry laugh, most he got was a ragged breath. 

His shoulders slumped in defeat, settling in he sat down on the still warm chair Krem had commandeered. Full lips pinched themselves into a flat line as Dorian stared, more and more focus was spent on the lummox’s hand. 

Bull’s pinky would twitch on occasion, with a shaky sigh Dorian took a hold of the massive fingers. Bull made a small jolting motion but settled back down fearlessly. Fingers closing around Dorian’s staff calloused fingertips. 

“Well… if it’s all the same to you I’d like to get some reading done. It’s most difficult doing so worrying over your foolish self.” He sniffed primly, his thumb running over Bull’s battered skin. He studied Bull’s face, “You’re more fun when you’re awake to bite back.” 

Some habits never died, he began reading aloud to Bull from the small book he had on him, using the nail of his thumb to turn the pages as delicately as possible and continuing on. He felt Bull shift; Dorian nearly cracked his neck in alarm. 

But there he was, leaning in as if hanging on his every word. Dorian allowed himself a small smile, and read himself hoarse. 

The trouble began when he tried to move, Bull’s grip tightened to the point Dorian feared his fingers would be broken. 

“Bull…” 

“Tama…” he shook his head, rattling off words Dorian didn’t understand. The pleading tones didn’t suit Bull in the least. 

That’s probably what made his heart bleed all the more for this oversensitive lummox. 

“Alright… just let me get some water. Would you like a few sips?”

“Tama…”

“Dorian. We’ve been over this.” 

“Tama…”

Dorian sat back down on the edge of the cot, and used his free hand to fan Bull, “Cooling you down might do the trick.” 

Bull fell asleep, his grip slacked and Dorian freed himself, slipping out of the tent and into the fresh, crisp air of the outside world. 

Krem stood looking uncomfortably around; he eyed Dorian, “How is he?” 

“Kept calling me “Tama” I don’t know why.” Dorian admitted feeling his shoulders slump. 

Krem nodded, “You know, you surprised me.” 

“Oh, pray tell what have I done this time? I’m sure you haven’t seen me with my keg trick.” 

Krem held up his hand, “Another time. You stayed, you could have left.”

“Not to be crass.” Dorian sighed, “But the rest of you are in the same situation. You could have washed your hands of The Iron Bull and left as soon as he dropped.” 

“Nah, we’re Chief is, we are. See, Bull’s like a brooding mother hen that lost her chicks. He has a way of finding the most disheartened of souls and making them feel well… like they belong.” 

Dorian shifted uncomfortably, refusing to acknowledge the feelings that were rising in his chest. 

“He keeps saying “Qunari don’t have mothers” and “Qunari don’t have families. It’s utter shit and he refuses to admit that we’re his family. But we just smile and nod.” 

“So what does this mean?” 

“That if you take your damn food to the edge of the group again I’ll have Skinner kick your pretty boy ass.” 

Dorian found himself smiling for the first time in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, support and for reading this chapter. As always if there are any errors within the story- I will take care of them ASAP.


	14. For Now, You're Mine [NSFW]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tidings of the season to you and yours. I'm hoping that everyone has had a safe and warm holiday season. 
> 
> Sorry about the wait. I seem to be in a bit of a slump when it comes to editing stubborn spots. As always I'll be touching up rough spots as I go.

It was another week before Dorian noticed he was sporting a rather scruffy beard. Time and time again he found himself unable to bring himself to expend the usual allotment of time to his pampering hygiene routine. He just simply didn’t care, his heart sat leaden in his chest and bitterness began to seep in under the undercurrent of stress. How dare Bull do this to them.

Bull was in and out, whatever stubborn will power had the bastard Qunari actually fighting the toxins. He was awake long enough for Stitches to pour something that looked like bile down his throat at times. Whatever it was had Bull yowling with laughter. Dorian had poked his head in, and heard some garbled something-or-another and then the words “Fluffy Nug” being uttered.

He slept for two days straight. The Chargers, plus Dorian, were just glad that Bull was snoring, instead of just clicking his teeth together as if he was pondering through a particularly difficult thought as his eyes traced some unseen force lingering on the ceiling.

Dorian was on the other side of Bull’s bed curled up on confiscated blankets and pillows in a pseudo nest that reminded him of his hovel of a room back at the keep. He’d give anything for a cask of that terrible ale and a shelf in the library. Just so he could chuck books over his shoulder if the title displeased him. He mulled it over and found himself leaning against Bull’s forearm as it dangled off the side of the bed. His temperature wasn’t as icy, Dorian yawned leaning into the steadily normalizing temperature of the warrior’s grey skin.

He must have slipped off, when his head dropped and smacked none too gingerly on the body of the cot. Bull jolted, snorting blinking drunkenly around.

“The fuck?” he grumbled in a hoarse voice. His voice wasn’t as powerful as it usually was, but Dorian shot to his feet.

“Bull?”

“Bookworm~” followed by a wide grin, “May your road be paved with sausages.”

Dorian’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline, he'd played along with this particular line of conversation, with a smile, “What kind, Bull?”

“Whatever pleases you best.”

Dorian found his lips pinching into a line, before he could monitor his words he began speaking, “Are we talking about food or something else entirely?”

Bull laughed; that big, gleeful laugh and pulled Dorian onto his chest. “You’ll be a good Mercenary. You’re learning good Bookworm.”

Bull smelled sour, and stale, but Dorian worked his nose past it, enjoying the lovely yielding (but somehow still firm and muscular) pectorals on Bull’s chest. Dorian’s eyes closed, “Sure you Oaf. Let me up.”

“In a bit.” Bull grumbled, “Sleeping on the floor has to be bad for your back especially with the shit you twist yourself in.”

“You’re near death you shouldn’t be so observant.” Dorian complained, jabbing his fingers into Bull’s chest.

“Was I? I thought I was just knocked out.” Dorian felt Bull shift his arm and scratch his knuckles against a wiry beard. 

“No.” Dorian felt cold all of a sudden, “No you weren’t. Stitches has been force feeding you some sort of Bile like antidote for over a week.”

“That… Explains the sudden excess of facial hair. That worried about me?”

“Don’t push it, Bull.”

“You’re a sweet guy there Bookie. Come here so I can pinch your cheeks.”

“Which cheeks?”

“Oh, you’re offering?”

Dorian sputtered, he thought of saying ‘no don’t be preposterous’ instead, “I’m not drunk enough to deal with you.”

Bull’s arm lashed around Dorian’s middle and pulled him close, the warrior lifted his chin, ignoring the scraping sensation at the tips of his horns and tucked Dorian under his chin. He smirked when Dorian gave a halfhearted attempt at getting away.

“You’re the worst.”

“So I’ve heard.” Bull crooned, “You’re lapping this up admit it Dorian.”

“Oh we’re back to names now?” Dorian huffed, “Here I was thinking the list of nicknames would get that much longer.”

“It will don’t worry about it.” Bull put a small kiss to the top of Dorian’s head. The struggle resumed, and Bull smiled. “You don’t have to put a face on Dorian… drop the act it has to be tiresome.”

Dorian let out a rush of air, his exhale began to shake in the end. He settled close, “But they’ll…”

“Tease, that’s the worst we’ll do. Fuck, when Skinner and Dalish became an item it was weeks of seeing how many times we could get Skinner to blush.”

“I thought they were… but they never said.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“It’s not my business what they do.”

“Atta boy.”

Dorian’s eyes closed and he just listened to the still ragged breathing Bull had, the Qunari would cough on occasion. But each passing fit his breathing would get that little bit better.

A bloody fucking miracle if Dorian ever saw one, though it didn’t spare the mage the feeling of wanting to twist Bull’s ears until he apologized for almost dying, the insensitive bastard.

“Still with me Big Guy?”

“I haven’t moved.” Dorian protested.

Bull let out a snort, he had walked into that one. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“You’re up for travel?”

“Tomorrow.” Bull shrugged, “It’s boring laying here.”

“Well I can leave then.” Dorian snapped, planting his palms on Bull’s chest and pushing up. He caught Bull’s sole eye and then a toothy smirk as a hand cradled the back of Dorian’s head, a few fingers petting the braid Dorian had tied his hair into. 

“You sneaky son of a…”

Bull kissed him, soft and slow, the Qunari making a soft sound any time Dorian’s fingers would scrape along his skin. They parted moments later.

“Bull.”

“Yes?”

“Wash your damn mouth out you taste terrible.”

Bull threw his head back and laughed. “I didn’t hear you complaining before.”

Dorian studied Bull, opened his hands and reached slowly alongside Bull’s head just before boxing his ears. The Qunari flinched, then, fixed Dorian with a withering glare. 

“You’re an ass.” Dorian huffed primly, “I don’t know why I put up with you. Want anything? Bath? Perhaps a roasted bear to eat?”

Bull’s expression softened “Sounds good. Who’s cooking?”

“Our generous hosts.”

“Oh good, Rocky can’t cook for shit.”

“So I’ve heard.” Dorian smiled, he stood dusted himself off and eased out of the tent.

Bull groaned, his muscles were stiff and he was feeling weak from his sickness, but he had to get up, make his appearance as if he were some sort of high ranking official.

Well, with the way his ‘kids’ looked at him he might as well be.

The sounds of chaos, armour clanking together and the less than polite language growing ever louder until the entrance exploded, his rag-tag team all clamoring to get in first. Krem popped through like a mouse through a key hole and latched onto him.

“You son-of-a-bitch almost dying like that.”

“I’ve heard something similar to this not too long ago… Dorian tell you?”

“Said you were hungry and up, you’re fine.” Skinner said.

“The hell is this I get a bit sick and you all go soft on me.”

“Sure Chief, Sure and you didn’t think that nug wearing that little dress was cute.”

“That’s entirely different, Krem.”

“If you say so.”

“I just get up and you all are busting my ass.”

“We haven’t been able to for days we have to make up for lost time.”

“Alright, alright I get it. Can we save this until after I at least bathe a bit? Come on off of me I don’t have it in me to drag you all on my back out of this tent yet.”

“Aww Big ol Mama bear wants to give us a ride.”

“I’m Qunari- Quari don’t---“

“Have mothers, blah, blah, blah take your damn bath chief.”

Bull managed to gimp out of the tent, his legs were stiff and his knee had locked at the joint on his battered leg something fierce. Upon thinking on it, he knew this feeling, and quite frankly he had the hopes of never feeling the displeasure of feeling drained and very small ever again. All in all at least he was in one piece. Well that was a matter of opinion.

He staggered aimlessly until he found the outdoor bathes. Bull rumbled in his chest in a pleased manner. He hummed lowly to himself and peered around the corner, a lopsided grin appeared as he was treated to a show of his current fixation bathe. If was a welcomed reprieve as chains rattled in his mind, threatening to open up a torrent of memories from Seheron, he'd rather not remember that particular experience. Bull’s sole eye drank in the sight, Dorian up to his hips in water, running a thick soapy lather down his thick mane of black hair; his eyes were closed as he worked a few tangles free with a mild expression of concentration. 

His nose scrunched as he worked one stubborn knot free, then, leaned to the side farther. Bull clamped down on his inner cheek, shit he was right, those nipple piercings were spectacular he eyed the cold hoops with keen interest, and the tender buds they attached themselves through. Bull stopped when he felt his teeth break skin, admiring the body hair that had grown in on Dorian’s chest and down… And down.

Damn, that was a nice happy trail, damn.

Bull’s eye traveled the outline of carved hip bones and abdominal muscles, back over Dorian’s nipples, and over the dips of his clavicle and up his neck around his ear over to his eyebrows and two haughty grey eyes staring back at him.

“Couldn’t find your own private bath?”

“There’s more than one?” Bull asked playing dumb.

“I suppose I’ll have mercy on you, after all you did walk back from death with middle fingers raised.”

Bull laughed, “It was only venom.” he said stripping what few clothes he had on off, he felt better as soon as they were off. He made to shift them off to wash only to have the cloth burst into flame before he could touch them. Bull let out a startled yelp and glared at the mage. 

“Oh dear.” Dorian chuckled. “You did have more in your pack yes?”

Did he?

Probably not?

Bull’s face fell into a frown.

“Krem has something no doubt; he’s been busy playing tailor while you’ve been faffing around.”

Bull exhaled and clambered into the water, watching as Dorian studied him just as intently, Dorian’s face lighting up with a blush as he dared his eyes to go lower.

“Feeling’s mutual you know.”

“I said nothing.”

“You’ve said plenty- Want to give the Bull a ride? See if you want to stay on or see if once is enough.”

“You would… be alright with that? In your condition?”

“I’m doing far better now, what do you say big Guy?”

Dorian contemplated for a few moments. “How about a bit of mutual bathing, then see how we feel?”

“Some would call that foreplay.”

“Indeed but don’t lie to me, especially after how intently you were staring at the soap, among other things.”

Dorian, Bull was certain, that in another life he would have made an excellent Tamasrin, he had a sort of care that he hid under layers of crap, and bluster. But he would never say so, he crooned as Dorian’s hands worked over his skin scrubbing him down and removing the subtle sheen of skirting to close to the edge. 

He sank as far down as he could while Dorian got the base of his horns cleaned. A soft hiss rushed out of Bull’s teeth. He shouldn’t be able to feel smug, nor hear a smirk, but Dorian managed to defy logic most of the time.

Bull ended up half submerged in the water, his head resting on the ledge of the pool they shared. He allowed his body to feel what it pleased and didn’t mind when Dorian let out a garbled noise when his cock showed interest in Dorian’s pampering.

Dorian cleared his throat, “Do you… want to?”

“I’m game if you are.”

“But are you sure? What do you want?” 

“What can’t handle it?” Bull teased.

There was a smack to his chest with a sopping cloth, “No, Bull, you oaf, Qunari warrior and a Tevinter Altus---”

“I haven’t been Qunari for a very long time.”

“But…”

“I was cast aside after everything I went through. I stopped receiving orders years ago, I stopped sending letters a few months before. No one’s come hunting for me.” 

Dorian nodded his head, “Do you have the energy?”

“Shit, yeah.” 

Dorian looked unconvinced and smacked him again. Bull, didn’t quite understand why. 

“For now I’m in charge.” 

Bull gave him a smile, “Anything you say.” 

Dorian studied him for a moment, grey eyes softening and he leaned in, kissing Bull’s lips. Damp fingers traced Bull’s pointed ears and went down his neck and chest. Each touch was gentle, significant in a way that Bull’s brain refused to delve into. Not when he just wanted to live in the moment.

Dorian bit his lower lip and tugged on it sharply. Snapping Bull out of his head. 

“Focus.” He ordered glaring; his hands paused at his ribs. 

Bull kissed Dorian’s forehead and nodded. 

“Good. I won’t be so kind next time.”

Bull rumbled in his chest, he needed this… 

Damn, Dorian was a good Tamasrin… 

/////// NSFW Below/////

Dorian perched himself on Bull’s good knee, Bull balanced him with a well-placed hand on Dorian’s hip. With a small growl the mage latched onto a spot on Bull’s neck, with a hum the warrior offered him more of his throat. While Bull languidly ran a thumb up and down Dorian’s hip bone, his free hand cupped Dorian’s cock rolling his balls gently. 

Dorian hummed giving Bull’s own hard on a squeeze, Bull’s head moved to nuzzle against damp hair. 

“Dorian…” Bull began, only to have the hand on his cock tighten. Bull’s head fell back in a brief sigh. He tried again, “Dorian, what do you want?”

Dorian hummed, “What if I told you,” he paused to reach over for massage oil, clearly when Dorian bathed he went all out, “I didn’t want a damn thing save to get you off.” 

Shit, really? He opened his mouth; Dorian silenced him, lurching out of the water to kiss him. “You shouldn’t have to worry about me, let me take care of you.” 

Bull studied grey eyes, and saw Dorian’s need: ‘Let me just marvel in the fact you’re alive. Please. Please just let me feel you, spoil you.’ The Qunari damn near choked on the swell of emotion. 

Dorian blinked harshly, and set his face to a sultry cast and returned his attention to Bull’s length. His fingers coated in the floral oil and began slicking Bull’s cock head. It was a languid pace, easy to follow and gentle. 

Bull closed his eye, reaching so he could at least return the favor, stroking Dorian gently in time with the pace set. Dorian crooned biting his plump lower lip. 

“How about some nice silk rope for next time, a nice red… It’ll look good on you.” Bull began nudging Dorian’s cheek with his nose. Dorian turned to kiss him. 

He pulled back moments later, with hooded eyes he asked: “Tell me more, I like hearing your voice.” 

Shit this fucking mage… Bull’s mouth went dry for a moment and he tugged Dorian to the point of too hard, but the mage moaned all the same. The hand at Bull’s cock returned the favour, making him gasp his hips giving a small buck. 

“Blind fold,” Bull blurted, “tie your hands behind your back and spread your legs out nice and wide.” 

Dorian blushed, nodding. His hand moving quicker now, lips pressed firmly against Bull’s hushing him for now. Bull found the angle hard on his neck, but if his mage wanted to kiss. Damn it he’d comply. He bit Dorian’s lower lip at one point earning a full body jerk and a coating of precome on his fingers. Dorian bit him back, jerking him harder, faster and lights sparked behind Bull’s eyelid. 

Pleasure coiled through their veins lighting up their nerve endings as the pace grew jagged and rough. 

“The Iron Bull…” Dorian sighed against his mouth and convulsed bodily against him. 

“Shit…shit…” He could have sworn he had shattered as the brilliant pleasure (nearing pain) consumed his nerve endings. His vision went dark for moments after he was done shaking and he sighed happily. 

He regained his vision in slow increments, forcing his head to move he managed to capture Dorian licking his palm clean. Dorian shuttered his chest heaving. 

///NSFW END///

“I’ve half a mind to get ‘em up again…” 

“I think you’re done in, Bull.”

“You’re right…” Bull huffed. 

Dorian bathed them again, and lay on his chest. Both too lax to move.

Dorian lounged on Bull’s chest, listening to the Qunari’s heartbeat, thumping clear and strong under his ear, and it lulled the mage into a light doze. He heard a small rumble bubble up Bull’s chest.

“What do you say we head back to that Shit-Hole Keep?”

“The name needs work.” Dorian yawned.

“Is that a yes?”

Dorian turned his face up towards Bull, “I should say so.” Dorian after a few moments decided he rather liked the crow’s feet around Bull’s eye when he smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading as always. Here's hoping the final chapters won't take this long.


	15. Journey Home [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello!
> 
> I'm sorry for making all of you lovely readers wait. I haven't been in the best of places mentally as of late. I'm having issues with my anxiety and depression issues. I've some clarity at the moment so with out further ado.
> 
> As always- no beta just me. I will correct any issues as I find them.

Traveling was boring. There were only so many stories, jokes, discussions, debates and arguments to have on the road. By day three of heading back to the keep, Dorian was half asleep on his horse. In the end he hopped down and walk alongside the handsome grey stallion to get the cobwebs out of his head.

But that only did so much.

Bull was in good spirits, then again, that Qunari bastard had some sort of ability to shrug off most anything. Death? No big deal. A long boring walk back to base while boredom seeped into everyone’s mind like a fine intangible madness? Never better!

Dorian walked a little faster, his horse grunted; displeased with the fact it was urged to walk faster alongside his rider.

“Dorian.” Bull greeted tilting his head to the side to watch the mage.

Dorian yawned dramatically, leaning his head against Bull’s arm. Bull felt his lips quirk into a smile, Dorian, was tactile. Touching him whenever he needed to double check Bull was alive. It was endearing, sweet and Bull would easily admit he liked Dorian’s doting. 

He could feel his men growing restless, Dorian on the other hand. Bull chewed his inner cheek for a moment and decided that ‘needy’ was a good word. 

Skinner let out a rushed sigh at the sight of a sign a mile later. It was just as good as the time Krem got teary eyed over a single dairy cow standing in a field grazing nonchalantly. 

“You’ve found a cow.” Bull teased. 

“You’re never going to let that die will you?” Krem’s shoulder’s slumped. 

“You could be 90 and on your deathbed and Chief won’t let it go.” Rocky smirked lumbering onward.

Dorian broke off in a confused laugh, “What’s this now?”

“Let me buy you dinner-I’ll fill you in on the jokes.” 

Dorian’s shoulders gave a wiggle. “I’d enjoy that.” 

“Should have nicknamed him ‘Wiggle’.” Dalish whispered comically loud. 

“Worms wiggle.” Dorian sniffed, “I’m living up to it either way.” 

‘Atta boy,’ Bull thought, ‘Atta boy.’ 

\--

The first spot of civilization they swept into didn’t know what to make of the ragtag mercenary team. But money was profit and profit is good, even if the locals were left scrambling to satisfy road weary hunger pangs. 

Then the fact that half of the mercenary crew just got into everything: Grim having to grab Rocky away from a fireworks display. The dwarf kicked and screamed: “BUT THEY COULD BE SO MUCH MORE EFFICIENT!” At the top of his lungs. 

Skinner and Dalish had gathered up any girl around ten to show them the finer things in life: throwing knives, where to strike if a man just wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. 

In the middle of the chaos Krem tried to wrangle them in, gave up, and took a beer Stitches was offering to watch the rest of the crew hit a second wind. 

Bull and Dorian were far too busy draining a keg, splitting half a roasted lamb to pay them much attention in the cool underground tavern. Dorian held his head up with a well placed fist as he twirled his fork idly against a bone. 

“I’m fairly impressed.” Dorian drawled eyeing Bull, “You sure do know how to treat a man right.” 

Bull shrugged, smirking, “Would you prefer it if I was more direct? Drag you off to bed like the Qunari savage I am?”

“I expected it to tell you the truth, but, it’s a nice surprise that you can play gentlemen.” 

The Qunari threw his head back and laughed, “That’s not answering my question.” 

Dorian smirked leaning forward, eyeing Bull up and down his chest, his face open and relaxed after a good meal and three pints of beer. He let out a chuckle, low and wrought with arousal. 

“You wanna test the foundation of the tavern big guy?” 

Grey eyes blew even wider, Dorian nodded licking his lips slowly, “Definately.” He got up gracefully, swaggering in an alluring manner. Bull didn’t hold back when Dorian passed him, an open palmed slap to the Mage’s ass. 

Dorian yelped and stumbled, if he was trying to glare, it didn’t work. If anything he looked more wanton. The nod was a dead give away. Bull slapped too much payment on the counter to tail behind his Altus. 

“Got a safe word, Big Guy?”

“Blight.” 

Good one. Bull’s first guess was “Blood Magic”. “I got you.” He promised.

“I know.” Dorian paused looking over his shoulder with half lidded eyes, “One request Bull.” 

“What’s that?” Bull paused, narrowing his eyes. 

“Tie me down,” Dorian’s chest heaved, licking his lips again he added: “Please.”

Growling, Bull bit Dorian’s earlobe, gingerly tugging at the flesh there. “Since you asked so nicely.” 

Dorian moaned outright. 

\--NSFW WARNING--

Red suited silk suited Dorian, it just brought out all of the subtle tones in his deep skin. Bull ran his fingers over Dorian’s back, looping his finger under a few of the knots testing to make sure they weren’t cutting off circulation. Bull smiled when Dorian went lax. He was practically a ragdoll and they hadn’t even begun.

“Still with me big guy?”

Dorian let a soft sound out of his throat, loving and blissed. He was perched on Bulls lap and was nuzzling his face against Bull’s thigh and stomach. Whatever he could plant soft open mouth kisses too. 

Bull checked Dorian’s face, angling him easily, grey eyes already blown wide and waxy. “Dorian?” He ran a thumb over Dorian’s cheek, the mage shuddered.

“I love your hands…” Dorian blurted nuzzling Bull’s palm. “Sir…” Another open mouth kiss to the center of his palm. 

Oh shit… Well… damn… just…

Damn- how could he say no to that? Shifting Dorian again, this time off of his lap and onto the bed he slapped Dorian’s ass unable to help himself. It was a good ass. 

“Spread your legs for me Dorian.” Bull murmured pouring some of the oil Dorian brought with him on his fingers. Bull made a few mental notes that if Dorian was up for more of this at any point, he’d start carrying a few extra supplies with him. He did enjoy how Dorian mewled as he was breached giving a hard clench before relaxing around him. 

He brought Dorian back into a kneeling position, unable to resist Dorian’s nipple rings at the moment. He worked Dorian open on his fingers, letting Dorian’s hips undulate as they pleased while two fingers spread him open. Bull’s free hand gave Dorian’s looped nipple rings alternating twists and pulls. Dorian rolled his neck and began panting heavily his cock jutting upwards, angry and flushed. 

“Damn.” 

He was answered with a keen, Dorian fucking himself harder onto Bull’s hand. Bull’s hand drifted from Dorian’s chest and gripped Dorian’s balls tightly. The man didn’t thrash, but did look up at Bull awaiting directions. 

“None of that.” 

A breathy moan and shaky nod was all the mage could offer him. Bull kissed him sliding a third finger within him, he tasted Dorian’s moans. He was absolutely high on it, it was a glorious sight to behold.

“You gonna be good for me and take what I give? Use your words Dorian.” Bull punctuated the statement with a feral growl that seemed to go right down through Dorian a fresh wave of precome dribbling down the mage’s cock. 

“Yes, sir.” he choked out. 

“Good.” Bull used Dorian’s bound thighs, after getting comfortable and Dorian angled right, he sank the mage down on his cock. Easing him over the bulbous head of his cock.

Dorian loved the stretched out ache as he was lowered down. His head fell back trying to have some contact with Bull’s chest, not wanting to tilt too far back he dropped his head forward as his toes curled as the burning sensation began to ebb. He twitched and his head shot up as Bull’s cock grazed along his prostate. His whole body shuddered as he moaned outright and broke off into whimpers when he could feel Bull’s pubic hair along the skin of his ass. It was all in and Bull had a fair bit of length and girth to him. 

It was a point of pride for Dorian, being able to take Bull down to the root. Going by the surprised hiccup Bull gave- he was impressed too. Offhandedly the mage wondered if he should start trying to goad the Qunari into moving. 

Not yet… not yet, he’d play along this time. 

The slow drag upward had Dorian’s toes curling all over, then lowered down slowly again. “Surely this isn’t your plan.” Dorian managed to find his voice. “I’m disappointed in you Bu--” he broke off into a screaming moan as Bull slammed him back down.

“I was going to let you off easy, but it seems you don’t want to walk straight, or be able to ride a horse either Dorian….” Bull growled. 

Oh, Oh shit. That’s a good point. That’s a very good point. But the pleasure of being forced up and down on Bull’s dick was enough to make him forget. His vision hazing and giving over to something alien but comforting. 

Dorian moaned head and body falling forward, only to be slammed into Bull’s chest in a brief pause. Dorian settled his head on Bull’s shoulder and moaned arching his back in an elegant curve. 

Bull pulled Dorian all the way off and flipped the man to face him, kissed him while his mouth was open, almost complaining about the sudden loss. Bull eased forward holding Dorian’s body up with one hand (he was no little weight but it was easy enough to hold his weight in one hand for Bull), the other braced on the bed as he rocked into the mage unable to hear anything except the sobbing moans bubbling past Dorian’s lips. 

Bull bit Dorian’s neck, “Follow me.” he growled snapping his hips flush against Dorian’s pelvis and shuddered his way through his orgasm. There was soft noises as Dorian came, spilling over himself and on Bull’s stomach. 

Bull eased himself onto his back, undoing the restraints bit by bit until Dorian’s hands and legs were free. 

The mage’s hands were on his horns and he was tugged forward in an open mouthed kiss, their tongues sliding along each other’s as they tasted adrenaline and endorphins on each other’s lips. 

Bull barely remembered anything else after that.

\-- End NSFW--

It was early morning when they set out again. Bull watching as Dorian ambled along humming to himself. 

Bull couldn’t help but smile, Dorian must have been aching for some form of release. If Bull could help alleviate the pent up energy- he was all for it.

Krem nudged Stitches, “They both have it bad don’t they?” 

“We’ll be lucky if the wedding will be two months from now.” 

“Love suits them doesn’t it?” 

“It does. Same with Dalish and Skinner.” Krem allowed himself to glance over his shoulder at the two elves holding hands as they walked. “Looks like everyone’s settling in it seems.” 

“It’s only a matter of time before we’re inundated with kids.” Stitches chuckled lowly. 

“What else is new? Chief would adopt kids by the armful if he could get away with it.” 

“Well he’s got that keep now…”

“S-Shit….” Krem’s head leaned back. 

“Forgot that detail didn’t you?” 

“I-I might have….” 

==At Last, At Last== 

It was nighttime when they rounded the corner and saw the Keep. 

“Should we check for anyone breaking and entering?” Krem teased eyeing the Altus. 

“Well if we find them I’m sure you’ll break their face in once you find them.” Dorian sniffed primly.

“Ah that’s a good memory.” Krem admitted. 

Dorian gestured rudely, Krem returned it in kind. Both smiled the whole time. 

Grunting and groaning their gear was unceremoniously dumped into everyone’s rooms. There was cursings, and minor arguments over the bathing situation. 

“Can’t we just fucking drink and go to bed?” Rocky groaned at one point. 

Bull grunted agreeably, “Pretty sure we have a cask of something laying around.” 

“We’ve got wine that was sent back with us.” Krem called. 

“Everyone grab a bottle. We’ve earned it.” 

Bull lost track of Dorian at one point, he wasn’t disappointed. Not at all- alright maybe he did want the mage to sit on his lap and lean against his pectoral muscle while sipping from his bottle of wine. 

Fuck, he couldn’t blame the man for just wanting to fall into his heap of a rat’s nest he DARED call a bed in the library. The road back had been tiresome. Bull smiled idly, the mage’s messy nature suited him though. Just as Bull’s need for cleanly minimalism. They were opposites, but the attraction and magnetism he felt with Dorian was frightening to some extent. The odd thing was he wanted it, he wanted to dive into whatever this /thing/ was.

Bull watched as the boys sauntered off, once he was alone he stood up gimping to his room. He stripped down bare, and laid down. His lips tugging into a pout. Maybe he was just getting old, or Dorian did just leave that much of an impression on him. 

It used to be easy to let go. 

There was a knock some time later and the door creaked open, Bull didn’t bother, he could go for some of Krem’s disgust at the moment. Then Dorian’s figure appeared, his hair still slightly damp and curling into loose ringlets over one shoulder. His moustache wasn’t waxed either. 

“Hope you don’t mind.” 

“Not at all Big Guy, come on.” Bull slapped the mattress beckoning Dorian in.

Dorian wasted no time settling against Bull’s side, one leg slung over Bull’s ample thigh, head pillowed against his chest. 

Bull fell asleep watching Dorian breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: the bit with the dairy cow is actually something that happened to me personally. I was on a train heading North. Going through forests, swamps and miles and miles of miles and miles of literally nothing. Then there's a paddock with one black and white dairy cow. I was so happy I texted the news to my Mother. "There's a cow"
> 
> My mother, being home, was naturally a little confused.
> 
> I'm hoping that by the end of this week or next week Chapter 16 will be up. I'm at the midway mark writing it.


	16. Like All Things [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bull and Dorian figure out what all is between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: no beta, just me.

The Chargers had gone back to what they always did in the castle: Try to fix it, find something else wrong and start pestering Bull about finding another abandoned Keep- surely somewhere else in Thedas had one or a dozen. That was until Dalish found an intact wine seller in, yet another, hidden passage. The Chargers, thankfully stopped pestering him at the off-handed chance there might be more hidden vintages milling around. Though he was considering getting help now, Krem and Dorian had made a bit too much sense over breakfast the other day. 

_“I think we’ve pushed this as far as we can by ourselves.” Dorian proclaimed into his tea before taking a sip, “If we’re here for a long haul we might as well commit to the investment.”_

_Krem still blurry eyed nodded, “Who knows how long and how much money that will take.”_

_“We can always ask Rocky to level a few areas that are beyond hope. He likes that sort of thing. Condense it down to the space we need.”_

_“That should be fun to watch at the very least.”_

_“See? Even if it’s a total disaster we have cheap entertainment for the afternoon.” Dorian beamed._

That required more paperwork, but it did keep his mind occupied and the madness away. Though most of that could wait until later on. He eyed the staircase in his office, having taken to leaving the door open so he could possibly see a flash of Dorian zipping around like a mouse. Bull made a noise in his throat, wondering if it was worth the neck pain using those stairs or the long route to the library that was the mage’s hiding spot. 

Bull got up his chair making a horrible scraping sound as he stood. What was driving Dorian off now? The Qunari rubbed his jaw, walking mechanically to the library worry seething just beneath the impassive calm in his face. Maybe they could work this out? ‘You’re sounding paranoid. He probably just needs down time.’ He gave himself mental breathing room while he walked around towards the stairs, his mind felt itchy with concern. He might have to ask Stitches if this was normal.

Bull pulled himself out of his head staring at the door handles to the library, sighing he pushed the doors open, poking his head in and looking around smiling when he found Dorian fishing out books, his hips swaying lethargically. Bull allowed himself time to leer, slipping into the library, watching as Dorian tossed a book over his shoulder with a disgusted grunt. 

“Back to abusing books already?” Bull asked trudging up the steps to join Dorian.

“It’s cathartic, especially with some of the trash that’s in this library.”

“Keep the ones with any pretty pictures, Dalish likes those kinds.”

“Duly noted.” Dorian grumbled eyeing a book, “Done all of your mysterious High Ranking Mercenary business?”

“Bah, same old crap, nothing interesting.” Bull wove his hand as if shooing away a stubborn bug. His eye softened studying how relaxed Dorian was for the time being. Gingerly he touched the small of the mage’s back drawing him in. Chest to chest.

Dorian leaned inward until he was leaning against Bull’s chest, his neck craning up to study the underside of Bull’s jaw. He dropped his arm full of books and reached behind Bull’s neck, hauling himself up, latching onto Bull with his legs. ‘He doesn’t have those spikes on.’ He’d rather not have puncture wounds in his ass, thank you very much. 

“I’m not in the mood for games right now, Bull.”

“I know, it’s not what you need.” Bull’s hands lay still and firm on Dorian’s form.

“Very well you cryptic bastard. Riddle me this what do I need then?”

“Touch.” Bull nudged a section of hair and listened to a hollow sound escape Dorian in a rush.

“What makes you think that?” Dorian ground out with some force.

“You’ve been through hell. You don’t quite know what you want, or you do, and you’re fucking terrified of it.”

Dorian’s hand reached up, pinching Bull’s triangular ear, considered his next move then dropped his hand all together. He looked up and traced Bull’s lips studying them with open want. Dorian blinked lethargically, leaning in, kissing Bull.

Bull sighed into the kiss, shifting to cradle the back of Dorian’s head anchoring him where he was. There was an involuntary growl on Bull’s part but the keening whimper could drive a weaker man to throwing Dorian on the nearest surface to test it’s durability. 

“Bull.” Dorian opened his mouth a little more inviting more, Bull obliged sliding his tongue along Dorian’s both humming their contentment. 

Dorian settled into a few facts- Bull was gloriously, deliciously warm and Dorian could eagerly suck the warmth off of him like a half frozen leech and Bull seemed to appreciate his lack of subtly in the matter. Second- He was comfortable to hold onto, soft but firm like a mattress should be. Third- He could have a brilliant conversation and debate with Bull. Forth- He loved this damn Qunari bastard.

Which may or may not be a problem. Dorian eyed Bull, finding his face open. Dorian’s hand slid to the side of his face fingers toying with the strap of his eye patch. Bull bowed his head easing the patch up. Dorian explored the scar tissue, Bull’s face was impassive his other eye closed.

The door creaked open, there was the sound of footsteps coming in, then quickly retreating along with the door clicking closed. Dorian looked over his shoulder, Bull laughed running his hand back and forth over Dorian’s suddenly tense shoulders.

“Easy…” Bull murmured, kissing Dorian’s lips softly. That relaxed the mage and he returned the gesture in kind. 

For a time neither spoke. Bull had sat down on a chair, letting Dorian perch wherever he felt was comfortable, large hands cradling Dorian’s ass as they kissed. Bull grumbled when Dorian pulled away from him unexpectedly. His eye opening to glare at the mage, but his gaze softened instantly watching the mane of black hair fly in an arc. Dorian gathering it up into a sloppy bun at the back of his head. 

Unable to help himself, “Getting serious now are we?” 

“I’m tired of it threatening to go into our mouths.” Dorian admitted hands settling on Bull’s shoulders. Hips rocking to settle back in. “Problem with that?”

“Not at all.” Bull kissed Dorian’s lips chastely, always amazed at how undone Dorian seemed to get over them. The more tender he was, the more Dorian fell apart for him. 

“G-Good.” Dorian stuttered, his hips rocking more against Bull’s stomach. Both men groaning, “We’re making this a habit.” 

“Are we now?” Bull teased urging Dorian to grind the cleft of himself against his length. 

Dorian let out a breathless keen, “Either it’s the chair-”

“No room in that pigeon-hole you call a room.”

“I was going to suggest our room…” Dorian bit out. 

Bull’s heart string gave a thrum then, “Our room.”

“What?”

“You said it first, Dorian.” Bull always delighted seeing Dorian’s warm even more with a blush. 

“I…. well…” 

“I’m not complaining. Let’s go to bed.”

“Tie me down?” Dorian pleaded. 

“That’s not what you need, Kadan” Which earned him a sigh. 

“I will follow your lead then…. Amatus.” Dorian resting his face against Bull’s jaw scraping against his stubble.

\-- NSFW Below --

Bull was sitting in bed, Dorian in his lap. Both rocking in unison arms clinging to each other. It was a vast change of pace for the both of them. Holding close and whispered breaths ghosting along their lips. Their hips pressed as tight as possible and the generous slip of lube against their cocks had Dorian biting at Bull’s lips. The mage pulled back feeling standing veins run along his shaft, he let out a shaky huff then bit his lower lip stifling his groans. 

“None of that Kadan.” Bull snarled pulling Dorian’s face close. 

Dorian’s eyes opened, and Bull’s blurry face became more focused. He panted for a time, working his face to express confusion in his lusty haze. 

“My Heart.” Bull admitted to him, fingertips grazing down the feverish skin. Dorian moaned loudly at the declaration. 

“Amatus.” Dorian smiled into the next kiss. 

Bull huffed out a laugh, Dorian startled when he felt a fat tear roll over his fingertips. He hadn’t the time to register his question as Bull rolled them over. Dorian appreciating the crushed feeling he had as his body was pinned helplessly to the mattress. His neck arched as he groaned throatily then outright screamed as Bull began a slow madding drag with his hips. 

It burned, in the most impossible way, Dorian felt they were both on fire as his nerves melted in their tenderness. The mage’s blunt nails digging into the back of The Bull’s neck. “Amatus.” he begged forcing his thighs farther apart. “No more… please… Bull.” 

Bull nodded kissing Dorian, and pumping his hips in a frantic pace unable to hold back much longer. They were both ready since they started in the library. Dorian tensed first gasping into Bull’s mouth as he spilled between them. Satisfied Bull joined him, his orgasm ripping him down and shooting up towards Dorian’s collarbone. 

He collapsed hot, sweating and now sticky against Dorian’s smaller frame, one large hand sliding along Dorian’s flank. They stayed like that for a time, then Dorian kissed his cheek.

“The Iron Bull- as much as I enjoy being forced to leave a permanent imprint in the bed, you’re crushing me to death.” 

“Hmm.” Bull rolled to his side, Dorian clinging to him like a barnacle. “Better?” he asked

Dorian sighed his relief and nodded. 

\-- NSFW END--

Outside on the roof of the Keep, Krem was lounging as he typically did when he wanted to relax. He watched the sun sink lower, and lower on the horizon. He eased himself back, watching the colours seep through the sky stained fire orange and red. 

“Sovereign for your thoughts.” Stitches called opening the hatch to the roof a few feet away. The medic held up two mugs offering drinks.  
“Beer?”

“No. Wine.”

“Don’t let Bookworm catch you doing that.” 

Stitches made a rude sound, “Like he cares.” 

Krem hummed settling in again staring up at the sky shuffling over so Stitches could sit. Krem straightened up leaning back on his hands taking the mug proffered to him. With a small sip he sighed. 

The two sat in silence for a time. Stitches was first to break the silence, “You do this from time to time. What’s the deal?”

“I’ve always done it. Even when I was in Tevinter, it’s just… I dunno I find it soothing.” 

Stitches nodded, “Walked in on Chief and the Vint didn’t you?”

“I did…” Krem trailed off. 

Stitches laughed. 

\----

“Kadan.”

“I like it, keep calling me that, Amatus.” Dorian purred uring Bull to lay on his back, Dorian straddling The Bull’s hips as he sat up studying Bull’s marred face. He laid his head back down on Bull’s pectoral muscle and curled his fingers towards his mouth, his hair fluttering down Bull’s ribcage. “Do you think it will last?”

“Think what will last, Kadan?” 

Dorian flicked his finger back and forth, “This… whatever this is.” 

“It might, it might not. But I think we’re good for each other.” 

Dorian gave the Qunari a soft look, eyes crinkled and sparkling while his lips twitched into a smile. Bull cupped the mage’s face memorizing the look, Dorian’s hand rested on gnarled knuckles holding Bull in place, “We’ll drive each other mad.” 

“Well… if that’s the case I hope it’s years of annoying the shit out of each other.” 

“You’re too sweet, Amatus.” 

“Only you would find that endearing, Kadan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience, support, comments, kudos and just in general putting up with my sparse updates. It's been one hell of a journey, and I thank you all. It's a bittersweet feeling having this story be over. But I'm glad I've pushed myself to complete this story even if it went in a place I hadn't expected.
> 
> I'll be back with another Adoribull fic sometime down the way. I think I've a good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> [On Tumblr as Java-Dragon](http://java-dragon.tumblr.com/)


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